The 2022 vintage was the second in a row to be marked by drought. In his first look at the vintage, Walter Speller (jancisrobinson.com) emphasised how the winter offered little to no snow – and therefore snowmelt. While heavy rains can often run off the slopes, the trickle of snowmelt is more easily absorbed by the soils, meaning that in 2022 the already depleted water reserves (after the dry 2021 growing season) weren’t replenished.  The dry weather continued through the spring, and in late May the mercury started to rise. Flowering took place early (around 10 days ahead of normal). July became warmer and drier, and producers were conscious of managing canopies to avoid potential sun damage. The lack of water resulted in small berries and clusters, meaning a high skin-to-pulp ratio, but the main concern with the water stress was that it may block ripening – and in particular impact phenolic maturity.  Thanks to the steady, warm conditions, harvest got underway early, with all the Nebbiolo in by early October – producers looking to preserve aromatics and freshness in the heat. With no rain, there was little – if any – disease pressure, but sorting was still important to avoid shrivelled or sunburnt berries. Indeed, at Produttori del Barbaresco, Aldo Vacca said they lost around 10% via sorting, while with the small berries and sorting, Dave Fletcher (Fletcher Wines) had between 20 and 30% less than a normal year.  To succeed in the year, producers had to preserve acidity and manage the potentially excessive tannins from the small bunches produced, as well as sorting out any sun-damaged fruit.  At Burlotto, Fabio Alessandria told us that 2022 was “something never seen” – an atypical growing season that doesn’t compare to any that came before it. With warm, dry conditions and low yields, he expected big, rich, tannic wines – but has been surprised by their gentle approachability. It’s not a classic or great vintage in his books, but one that offers great pleasure. Similarly, Nicola Oberto (Trediberri) finds the wines don’t reflect the intensity of the year’s conditions.  Few critics have reviewed the vintage yet, although there’s a clear consensus that it is not an outstanding vintage and sits behind 2021, with more fruit-forward, but also approachable, wines. Vinous’s Antonio Galloni has been pleasantly surprised by the wines so far. He emphasises that managing yield was key, ensuring the crop load was low enough for the vine to ripen the fruit. Despite the risk of phenolic under-ripeness, he has found the wines to be softer than he anticipated, with generally less oak used, producing wines that will offer “near to medium-term drinking”, if not great ageability.   Keep your eyes peeled for additional reports on the vintage; we’ll add to this feature as and when we have more information. In the meantime, read more about Italy  Browse all current listings of 2022 Barbaresco

After the hallowed 2021 vintage in Piedmont, 2022 was a more challenging growing season. The wines it produced, however, have so far surprised both winemakers and critics. As the first 2022 Barbarescos are set to be released, we take a look at the year 

Diving into the 2022 vintage in Piedmont – the growing season and wines from Barolo and Barbaresco according to producers and critics 

Piedmont 2022 – Barolo and Barbaresco vintage 

Piedmont 2022: vintage focus 

Old, low-yielding vines. I’ve written that phrase more times than I’d like to confess. But how much does it really mean when it comes to the quality of the wine in your glass? The 2023 vintage in Burgundy (read our full vintage report here) produced generous yields. In farming terms, that’s a good thing: a plentiful crop that restocks the cellars (and coffers). But the sheer volume of fruit (“a wall of grapes”, as Bouchard’s winemaker Frédéric Weber told us) posed its own challenge – and much of our time in the region’s cellars this year was spent diving into how they managed, or controlled, the yield. It seemed fitting, therefore, to address the topic in greater detail.  In the Old World, appellation rules will limit yields, with the yield generally decreasing as you move up the appellation system (see below a table detailing the maximum yields for Burgundy, for example). Of course, this indicates a relationship between yield and quality, implying less is better – and there is no doubt that excessive yields don’t produce fine wine. But how low is too low? There is a fashion for prizing vines that barely manage to ripen a bunch or two, but do they really make better wine than those producing a decent crop? Beyond our obsession with rarity, what are the consequences of less fruit per vine – and therefore, what does more entail? A note on measuring yield Before we get into the weeds of the matter, let’s address how we talk about yield. In the Old World, the most common measurement of yield is hectolitres per hectare (hl/ha), measuring the volume of juice or wine per hectare of vineyard area. In Champagne the standard measure is kilos per hectare and in Italy you may see reference to quintales per hectare (qt/ha or q/ha, with one quintal translating to 100kg), while in the US, producers are more likely to use tons per acre. We’ll dive further into the many variables here, but it’s worth highlighting that vine density isn’t taken into account by any of these measurements. Although a higher number of vines per hectare will generally mean a higher yield across the vineyard, the increased competition will also likely reduce the yield per vine. For this article, we have spoken to producers from a range of regions, but do note that yields are not comparable between varieties or region. Climate – with heat, sunlight and water availability, as well as the varying size of berries and clusters of any given variety, mean that there is no number that can be deemed a global average when it comes to yield. (Do look at this table compiled by the Wine Advocate’s William Kelley, comparing vine density, cluster weight and juice yields for various classic fine wine regions, to give you an idea of the differences between regions.) Given this, “high” and “low” yields aren’t equated to specific numbers here, but the concept discussed more broadly – and arguably more relevantly for those of us drinking wine rather than making it. Bearing all of this in mind, extremely approximate conversions can be made as follows: one tonne per hectare is approximately 7hl/ha, while one ton per acre is around 17.5hl/ha (Oxford Companion to Wine). Yields: how low is too low? “It’s not extreme mythology: low yields produce better quality,” Cerbaiona’s Matthew Fioretti tells me; for him, high yields risk dilution and sanitary problems – and at excessive levels, that is certainly true. But, as Myriad’s Mike Smith told me, the relationship is “not linear”. Mike Dunn (Dunn Vineyards) generally has low yields, but that’s not necessarily about concentration, he explains: it’s simply about how much they can ripen before winter hits. Up on Napa’s Howell Mountain, their poor soils and farming (avoiding irrigation and fertilisation where they can) naturally produce lower yields. He recently changed some of their Cabernet Sauvignon to cane (rather than cordon) pruning and, although they’re getting more fruit off the same vines, there’s been no loss in quality. “It’s all relative,” says Ivan Massonnat at Belargus in Anjou. He points to Saumur with its limestone soils, where producers can crop 45-50hl/ha without a problem, but on the schist soils that lie beneath his vineyards: “Forget about doing much more than 30-35hl/ha,” he says. And even that has proven challenging for him. In the seven vintages he’s produced at the estate, only two have come close to 30hl/ha, with the average around 15hl/ha, simply due to the challenges of each vintage. He’d have loved to crop more – but nature had other ideas, and vignerons have to adapt to the vintage. Massonnat explains how if you farm to produce yields that are overly low, you can end up with fruit that has high technical, or sugar, maturity, but isn’t yet phenolically ripe – leading to unbalanced wines. Smith echoes this, talking specifically about Beckstoffer Dr Crane, one of Napa’s legendary vineyards, which he finds likes to produce more – around five tons an acre (versus four in most of the vineyards he works with). He sees producers cropping to just three tons per acre there, and in warm vintages the fruit ripens too quickly for the phenolics to catch up. Philippe Bascaules – who was first appointed Estate Director at Ch. Margaux in 1990 – offers an interesting perspective, arguing that there’s no direct relationship between yield and quality. In Bordeaux in the 1970s, he tells me, yields were consistently low – 25-30hl/ha, with wines that were inconsistent. As the wines became more popular, with demand from the US in particular for the 1982 vintage, producers started aiming for significantly higher yields and chaptalizing much more. Soon, average yields had doubled to 50-60hl/ha – a level that was unsustainable, especially in challenging vintages such as 1992, ’93 and ’94. Gradually they implemented changes, introducing green-harvesting (in 1986 at Ch. Margaux) and reducing fertilisation levels in the 1990s. Today, he and his team aim for around 45hl/ha, “a good production” in his mind – but a level which also offers insurance against inclement conditions. Lowering yields is something that, for him, has brought greater consistency to both the estate and region across vintages – ensuring they can ripen the crop each year. Deliberately reducing the yield beyond this, however, wouldn’t offer any serious benefit, he says. Similarly, across the Durantou family’s estates on the Right Bank, including Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet, Noëmie Durantou Reilhac targets a yield of circa 42hl/ha. “The vine wants to produce fruit,” she says, “so if the yield is really, really low, something went wrong.” For her, it’s the balance that matters most. With very high yields, the resulting wines will lack concentration (“You cannot make in tanks what nature hasn’t done before,” she says), but equally if the berries are so small that there is barely any juice, you’ll have little but tannins left to work with. And, while hail or frost will reduce your yield, they won’t result in greater concentration. “I think it just comes down to stress,” Dunn tells me. And that’s a common thread for several producers, arguing that vines need to struggle to produce quality. As Sébastien le Golvet – of Champagne Henri Giraud, who works with the poor soils of Aÿ – says, “genii are born of suffering”. Suffering doesn’t always mean lower yields, however: arguably, Dunn says, in high-vigour sites, keeping higher yields will help increase stress, pushing the vine to work harder – and therefore produce higher quality. Elements impacting yield While it’s impossible for us to address every factor that influences yield, it’s worth – relatively briefly – highlighting a few additional influences beyond site (with poorer or richer soils), variety and vintage: Trellising: Trellising – the shape in which a vine is trained – can be used to control yield. At Cerbaiona, Fioretti emphasises how using alberello or bush vines is key to helping contain Sangiovese’s natural vigour. At Tiberio, Cristiana Tiberio’s oldest vines are pergola-trained, with a traditional Abruzzese system that encourages competition but also increases the canopy to aid photosynthesis and ripening. Vine material/rootstock: The material used in a vineyard is integral (as with Quinta do Noval’s Nacional vineyard, see below). Mike Dunn, for example, mentioned how one of his older vineyards was planted on St George rootstock, known for shatter and therefore limiting yields even further. Jean-Marie Fourrier (Domaine Fourrier) argues that the use of selected clones, rather than massal selection, has resulted in higher yields and the need to green harvest, something that he never does – aided further by the age of his vines (see below for more on this). Vine age: There’s no doubt that the element of vine age is conflated with yields and quality, with older vines often producing better fruit – but less of it. As Mike Dunn told me, the wines from his oldest vines are “more intriguing”, but at some point economics comes into play, and the level of production is financially unsustainable. It’s another non-linear relationship, however, as Durantou Reilhac explains: “Some 70-year-old grandmas can run and dance, and others are weaker.” Although most old vines will produce less fruit, she finds it’s far from uniform in her vineyards – and sometimes there will be young vines that produce less. Virus and millerandage: Virused vines will produce lower yields, and as with old vines, will reach a point where they are unsustainable. While on the surface virus is negative, certain producers do value the reduction in yield or slower ripening that is a result of disease – South Africa’s Hamilton Russell being one (with leafroll virus). Quinta do Noval persists with its own-rooted Nacional vineyard, suffering from phylloxera, with the vines slowly dying and yielding tiny volumes, to produce a particularly special and rare Vintage Port. Similarly, millerandage is a condition most commonly a consequence of poor weather at fruit-set, producing grape clusters with unevenly sized grapes, combining larger and smaller (or shot) berries – sometimes referenced as hen-and-chick. While this reduces yield, the phenomenon is sometimes valued for giving increased concentration to wine. Indeed, some particular clones – such as the Mendoza, Wente or Gingin clones of Chardonnay – are valued for their bunches with hen-and-chicks, and Bret Brothers, for example, even makes a special Cuvée Millerandée – with millerandée Chardonnay – from Les Quarts (a Pouilly-Vinzelles site recently awarded Premier Cru status). Cover crops: At Henri Giraud, Sébastien le Golvet feels that cover crops are essential to the quality of their fruit – and the yield. Sewn just before harvest, the cover crops provide competition up until flowering when they roll the grass mix, creating a bed that holds water and offers nitrogen to the soils, acting as a natural fertiliser – in a way both moderating then fuelling the vines’ growth. This is one hint at the extent to which the type of soils and level of organic matter, not to mention water availability, dictated by site and the farming methods, are all key. The previous vintage: There are two theories at play here. Firstly, conditions during what is known as the initiation phase of the vine cycle, which takes place alongside flowering, will dictate the yield of the following vintage. In 2023 in Burgundy for example, one of the factors in yield was that the spring of 2022 offered perfect conditions, laying the groundwork for 2023’s plentiful crop. As Sébastien le Golvet also explained, however, a large crop in one vintage can tire the vines, meaning they have less to give the following year. How wine producers manage yield The vine naturally wants to reproduce, to grow, ripen fruit and spread its seeds. Vignerons are tasked with taming the plant to focus its energies to develop fruit of concentration and complexity that will make fine wine. This is done in many ways, some of which include: Pruning: The first stage to set up the yield in an existing vineyard is pruning, leaving the appropriate number of buds per vine for the season ahead. The timing of this varies according to the producer, from December through to March, with later pruning helping delay the vine cycle, which is sometimes desirable. Alvina Pernot, for example, specifically pruned her vines shortly (ie to offer a lower crop) in 2023 to help the vines recover from the relatively high-yielding 2022 vintage. Lalou Bize-Leroy famously works with very low yields, and emphasises how important pruning is in this (Domaine Leroy harvested just under 30hl/ha in 2023, its highest ever yield – a number which would still be low by many producers’ standards). De-budding or suckering: In spring, producers will de-bud or sucker the vines, removing lateral shoots and providing further control of the potential yield, as well as the spacing and position of the crop. In 2023 in Burgundy, many producers emphasised how important this was. Hugues Pavelot described it as “drastic”, while Philippe Jouan passed through his vines twice. At Bouchard, Frédéric Weber explained how some of the buds produced two or three bunches in 2023 (rather than the normal one), meaning that even with extensive de-budding yields were very high. Green harvesting: Green-harvesting is the most discussed method of yield control, and one that divides producers. We spoke to several Burgundian vignerons who avoid it (Dominique Lafon, Jacques Devauges at Domaine des Lambrays, Philippe Jouan and Jean-Marie Fourrier, to name a few) – some of whom felt that they had no choice but to use the method in 2023, despite their best efforts. The reason against green-harvesting is that the vine will try to compensate, and that it can be avoided with managing the vineyard in other ways. That said, there are many top-tier producers that green-harvest, and feel it is key to the quality they produce (Ch. Margaux, Eglise-Clinet, Georges Noëllat and Olivier Bernstein, to name a few). And it’s not a decision that any take lightly, well aware that they are literally throwing away potential income. At Cerbaiona, Fioretti compares the vines to runners or cyclists – needing to carry as little weight as possible to get over the finish line. With Sangiovese, he finds it’s unavoidable, especially with the presence of “wings” or “shoulders” (smaller separate clusters that sit on the shoulder of the main bunch). The timing is key, and many producers emphasise the importance of green-harvesting early in the season. For Noëmie Durantou Reilhac, she aims to have this done prior to véraison to avoid twisting the stems (which would impact sap flow) and damaging the skins of the remaining bunches. She’ll do a final pass through her vineyards just before harvest, but this is a method of sorting rather than impacting the ripeness of the grapes on the vine. “There’s a certain point where you can reduce fruit, say a month away from picking, but it won’t do anything,” says Myriad’s Mike Smith. Like many producers, he favours green-harvesting mid-véraison to drop anything that is behind, helping even the ripeness of the crop – as Bascaules does at Ch. Margaux. In 2023, several Burgundy producers highlighted having to do multiple passes to reduce the crop – doing what was sometimes referred to as a “pink” or “blue” harvest on top of a green harvest. Canopy management: A vine’s leaves are its engine – responsible for photosynthesis. The larger the canopy, the larger the engine, therefore trimming the vine’s canopy can help lower its vigour, while keeping a larger leaf area can help encourage vigour. This needs to be considered alongside airflow (to avoid disease pressure) and shading of the bunches (which could delay ripening). If the canopy isn’t balanced with the volume of fruit, it can also negatively impact fruit composition – especially the acid make-up and development of colour and phenolics. Ivan Massonnat (Belargus) explained that in 2022 and 2023, for example, he used a high trellis, allowing a larger leaf area, to capture maximum light and photosynthesis to fuel the vines; but in 2022 he did the opposite, wanting to reduce the size of the “sugar machine”. It has, he notes, become common for large canopies to be used alongside low yields, especially by producers in Burgundy, something he feels has gone too far at certain addresses: “You can kill a wine with concentration,” he says. Some argue that trimming the canopy can encourage it to grow further, while others want to retain a large canopy to encourage root growth (Olivier Lamy feels that the vine has the same amount of growth above and below ground, therefore wanting to retain his canopy to the roots to drive deep into the soil). Lamy is one of a cohort of producers using “tressage”, or braiding, to tame the canopy – a technique pioneered by Lalou Bize-Leroy. For her the aim is to avoid cutting the apex (or growing tip) which would otherwise encourage the growth of lateral shoots. Producers such as Charles Lachaux have taken this even further, training vines to a single stake (more common on the steep slopes of Priorat, Côte-Rôtie or the Mosel) and weaving the shoots into distinctive arches.  The relationship between yield and quality is undoubtedly a tricky one – and one that every producer I spoke to feels is deeply complex. We couldn’t touch on everything here (the tiny yields for botrytised sweet wines, for example, or typically higher yields used for sparkling wine), but there’s plenty to consider. While it remains clear that excessive yields can produce dilute wines, with so many variables play, it’s also clear that less isn’t always better. Read more Editorial

Burgundy’s vignerons were blessed with quantity in 2023, but – when it comes to making fine wine – how much is too much? We spoke to a host of top producers to find out if low yields really do mean better quality

Do low yields really mean better quality when it comes to wine? We talk to Ch. Margaux, Cerbaiona, Eglise-Clinet, Belargus, Dunn, Myriad and more to find out

Understanding yield and quality in wine

Yield and quality: is less really more?

It’s easy to make assumptions about William Kelley. In some ways, he seems like a caricature of the stereotypical wine writer: an excruciatingly RP English drawl, a doctorate in 19th century history from Oxford, a childhood divided between London’s Belsize Park and more rural Suffolk, and a cellar of seemingly endless depths (or so his Instagram suggests). And yet, there’s much more to the Wine Advocate’s Editor-in-Chief than meets the eye. Kelley sprung from anonymity rapidly. His mentor was Hugo Dunn-Meynell, a family friend who had been a protégé of André Simon and managed the Wine & Food Society for 15 years; organising Dunn-Meynell’s cellar formed Kelley’s early vinous education. He joined Oxford’s famous Wine Circle, acting as President for three years during his studies, which concluded with a PhD. “Education in the humanities is the only form of institutionalised punishment where you get extra time for good behaviour,” Kelley says with a chuckle. Academia wasn’t for him, but, as he tells me, with a casual shrug: “I kept getting scholarships and things, so I kept on doing it.” Wine, meanwhile, played an ever-growing role in his life – from pillaging his college’s cellars, helping the staff decant old vintage Ports, increasing involvement in the Wine Circle, and trips to visit producers. Kelley penned his first feature for Noble Rot in 2015, a spotlight on the late, elusive Henri Bonneau. He was published in Decanter the following year, where he soon secured the North American beat. He covered Burgundy’s 2015 and 2016 vintages for the magazine, before joining the Wine Advocate team in 2017 – just two years after he’d first started writing about wine. In March of this year (2024), he took over as Editor-in-Chief – arguably the biggest job in wine writing. That’s quite the trajectory for someone who fell into the job. “I always wanted to make wine,” Kelley says. “Writing about it sounded like a good idea to make some money, you know? I found the meaning afterwards.” And that meaning is what makes Kelley so interesting, both as a writer and an editor – one that is quietly leading a revolution at the Wine Advocate. I always wanted to make wine,” Kelley says. “Writing about it sounded like a good idea to make some money, you know?  “What we do can be amazingly useful in disrupting hierarchies and forcing critical reflection,” Kelley tells me. “I don’t think we do enough of those things currently – but this is something we’re going to do more of.” In his mind, the Wine Advocate’s purpose is “to keep everybody honest”. The publication was purchased by the Michelin Guide in 2019 (having held 40% since 2017), and Kelley’s been talking to the Michelin team – about how they choose which restaurants get reviewed, and the criteria on which they’re judged, looking for possible synergies. The difference between two and three stars, for example, is more subjective than whether or not an establishment makes it into the guide – and it’s similar with wine. Although there will always be an element of subjectivity, especially when it comes to the two- or three-star equivalents, Kelley is trying to bring more consistency to the way wines are scored. He’s brought in technical training for the entire reviewing team – looking at perceptive thresholds for faults such as brettanomyces and mouse, while also ensuring that they’re all using the same lexicon – that one person’s cinnamon isn’t another’s clove. He cites the world of perfume, where training is intensively scientific and perfumers have to pinpoint hundreds, if not thousands, of specific scents – strikingly different to the world of wine, where tasting is often just “free association”. The team even sends samples off to a laboratory for analysis. This is all part of how Kelley hopes to tackle the inflation, and compression, of scores (“a huge problem” he confesses) – which in turn is devaluing both ratings and the role of those that give them. Kelley is unusual in the critical sphere, for both making wine and reviewing it. He’s received criticism for this duality, although openly declares any interests in reviews (such as for Domaine Felettig, an estate from which he buys fruit). His experience in the vineyard and winery, however, gives him a unique perspective and allows him to engage with producers on a deeper level – something he wants to see more of across the team. What we do can be amazingly useful in disrupting hierarchies and forcing critical reflection When I ask how the publication determines what gets reviewed, Kelley explains how, for a long time, writers at the Wine Advocate had KPIs for the number of reviews published – trying to tackle as much as possible of the increasingly diverse world of fine wine in a bid for relevance. But he’s clear that needs to change: “We need to embrace the idea of reviewing fewer wines in more depth and following them more closely, because that reflects how people consume today,” he says. Part of that, for him, involves getting into vineyards and wineries to see how people are working, and spending enough time to fully understand it. He wants to put an end to gathering samples in anonymous tasting spaces; for him, the supposed neutrality of that experience is limiting. “How do you invest in the stock market if you know nothing about a company’s performance?” he says. “How do you define authenticity? For me, it’s about taking risks. It’s about exposure to negative consequences in pursuit of a goal, a conviction,” Kelley tells me – and it’s authenticity that he wants the Wine Advocate to be championing. “We’re in a period when winemaking conditions are more extreme, where traditional hierarchies of sites are being upended, and for the industry to digest all of that, we can be immensely useful voices.” He's clear that wine remains old-fashioned in many ways with an “aura of tradition” that consumers like, whether the family pedigree of certain estates (“We don’t want seventh-generation politicians, but suddenly we like nothing better than to buy a seventh-generation wine.”) or antiquated classifications (“Having a great classification is very nice – but it shouldn’t be a licence to print money. It should be an obligation to do better.”). The Wine Advocate, however, has the ability to champion young producers, shine a light on new names and question the current state of the industry. It can – in short – disrupt the status quo. One of the challenges with wine is that critics and writers are often dependent on producers for access, especially when it comes to the rarest and most sought-after wines. Truly impartial judgement is difficult when a low score or negative review risks not being invited back. (Kelley himself has been banned from estates – and sometimes later un-banned.) The industry is riddled with such conflicts of interest. But, for Kelley: “It’s not actually about avoiding [conflicts of interest], because you can’t… our business is about managing them; it’s about being very transparent.” We’re in a period when winemaking conditions are more extreme, where traditional hierarchies of sites are being upended While there are of course strict rules in place regarding hospitality and producers, the Wine Advocate’s expenses policy is generous enough, Kelley assures me, to allow writers to “engage with [producers] as an equal” – and ensure there’s no pay-to-play. Wine criticism isn’t renowned for its generous salaries, yet Kelley notes how important it is for reviewers “to be paid enough to buy the wines and have an independent relationship with [them]”. He highlights how it’s the bottles that he might have misjudged that have shaped him most professionally – lingering long in the memory as he tries to unravel how and why he might have misread a wine. Inevitably, Kelley is having to take a step back from reviewing to allow him to steer the ship. He’s expanding the team and plans to keep writing about Burgundy for now, but is keen to avoid “sitting on” any particular region (“I want to actually try to create new voices,” he says). When we talk, he hasn’t even hit six months in his role as Editor-in-Chief, and there is clearly more he wants to tackle, bringing further nuance to the way the Wine Advocate rates and reports on wines and producers. Wine writing was never the goal, however, and as he approaches a decade in his accidental career, his feet are getting itchy. He’s juggling his small project in the US (Beau Rivage) and his Burgundy label (largely négociant with two tiny parcels of his own, Beaune Premier Cru Les Chouacheaux and Côte de Beaune) alongside the job – and that’s where he wants to be. Once he’s finished his work reforming the Wine Advocate, he’ll be found among the vines in Burgundy. Wine is – and always will be – his life. “If it’s not an obsession, you’re not doing it right,” he says. It is this almost manic focus – a combination of true passion and intellectual curiosity – that is likely to define his work, both at the Wine Advocate and beyond.  Explore more Editorial

Earlier this year, William Kelley was named Editor-in-Chief of the Wine Advocate, taking over from his colleague Joe Czerwinski. We sat down with him to find out more about how he stumbled into writing, the role of critics today and why – for him – wine is much more than just a job    

The Wine Advocate’s new Editor-in-Chief, William Kelley, on stumbling into wine writing, the role of critics and why wine is much more than a job

Talking to the Wine Advocate’s William Kelley

Advocating for change: William Kelley

This year sees the release of the 20th vintage of Cheval des Andes – Cheval Blanc’s operation in Mendoza. Since the team from the legendary Saint-Emilion estate embarked on the venture with Terrazas de los Andes, 25 years ago, much has changed – and this is the start of a new era for the property. What was once a working concept has taken root.  “This is the beginning of our adult life,” says Technical Director Pierre-Olivier Clouet. “We have a real identity today.” It’s taken a quarter-century for the property to shake off the uncertainty of youth and find firm footing – something that hasn’t necessarily been easy.  “We made mistakes,” Clouet confesses. Not having a historic reputation to rely on, the team at Cheval des Andes had sought out high scores, chasing points to prove their worth. But, in a still Parker-dominant era, that meant making wines with “ripe grapes, a lot of extraction, a high level of alcohol – you [had] to show the muscle to explain that you are a great wine”, explains Clouet. “For a long time, the recipe was in the cellar; nobody cared where the vines were.” Now, however, that’s all changed.  From 2011, the team started shifting focus to the vineyard, working more closely with their French counterparts and vice-versa. The arrival of Lorenzo Pasquini (now the man at the helm of Ch. d’Yquem) in 2015 was key to the transition, as Cheval des Andes started to focus on a shared vision of fine wine – one that is about freshness, balance and ageing potential, and one that defines Cheval Blanc.  Only with a few wrong turns, however, can you be sure you’re on the right path – and Clouet is clear that those first 16 years, figuring out what Cheval des Andes should and could be, has been “super important” in helping them build “something with real sincerity, real authenticity”. Most importantly, Cheval des Andes is not intended to be, nor is a copy of Cheval Blanc: “It is, in our mind, absolutely an Argentine wine,” says Clouet.  The original 31-hectare vineyard is in Las Compuertas in Luján de Cuyo, a subregion of Mendoza. It is on these clay-dominant soils at around 1,000 metres’ altitude that Pierre Lurton discovered a plot of ungrafted Malbec in 1998. Planted in 1929, the vine material pre-dates phylloxera, descended from a selection imported to Argentina in 1852 – back when the grape dominated Bordeaux. This selection is key to the DNA of Cheval des Andes and, along with the huge diurnal shift, produces Malbec that is fresh, precise, perfumed and delicately structured. For Clouet, the “true” Malbec is closer to Pinot Noir in style – more floral than fruit-led, vibrant and even ethereal.  In 2001, the team purchased an additional parcel in La Consulta in the Uco Valley, at higher altitude and with more gravel-driven soils, a cooler site that has an even more significant diurnal swing in temperature. While they once might have used only a fraction of the estate to produce the flagship wine, they have moved to using as much as they can – to create a pure expression of the entire property, declassifying only plots that don’t fit in the blend or meet their stringent quality standards.  All 50 hectares are farmed with the same philosophy as their vines in Saint-Emilion – employing extensive cover crops, trees scattered throughout the vineyard, and with the same incredible attention to detail and focus on sustainability. “We work with the same vision and the same conviction,” says Clouet. One key difference, of course, is that irrigation is essential in this part of Argentina – but, here again, they’ve changed tack over the last decade or so. Rather than traditional modern drip irrigation where necessary water would be eked out drop by drop over the season as needed (“too artificial”, Clouet tells me), they irrigate extensively over the winter to ensure the soils are replenished fully between seasons (as well as help protect ungrafted vines against phylloxera), then – on a plot by plot basis – when the vines are starting to suffer, they give the vines around 40mm of water (still via drip irrigation), over 24-48 hours, replicating a day or two of steady rainfall.  They’ve reduced the height of the canopy (the engine of the vine for sugar production), while using trees, cover crops and minimal leaf-pulling to avoid sunburn. They’ve started pruning each vine according to its vigour, and are now picking significantly earlier – as much as two months earlier than 15 years ago. With this detail in the vineyard, the challenge is simply to guide the fruit through the winery: “No mistakes is enough in the cellar,” says Clouet.  In some ways, the wine echoes Cheval Blanc. While the Saint-Emilion property blends Cabernet Franc and Merlot, Cheval des Andes focuses on Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon – the Malbec bringing freshness and silkiness that complements the backbone of powerful Cabernet. And the Cheval Blanc style, one of restraint and precision, shines through in recent vintages of the wine – and especially the soon-to-be-released 2021. As Clouet tells me, “Our vision is absolutely delicacy, freshness, balance, ageing potential, complexity.” Unlike Cheval Blanc, however, which needs 10 years in bottle to start even hinting at its potential, Cheval des Andes offers an immediacy – something that Clouet is clear doesn’t inhibit its ability to last; the 2021, for example, can be drunk now, but will evolve over the next 25 years at least, he tells me.  Even the association with the Cheval Blanc name doesn’t make Cheval des Andes an easy sell to fine wine lovers; but that, says Clouet, is part of what makes it fun – a challenge for the team to be pushed. Even better, his team gets the chance to learn and make wine not just once a year, but twice, as well as gaining additional insight on how Cheval Blanc might adapt to climate change. But Cheval des Andes isn’t just an intellectual exercise (that is merely an added bonus), Clouet firmly believes in the potential of this site – something they’re now finally beginning to realise. Browse all current Cheval des Andes listings or read more Editorial 

For 25 years, Cheval Blanc – one of Saint-Emilion’s leading names – has been crafting wine in Argentina. We sat down with Pierre-Olivier Clouet to find out more about the project today, and why the 2021 vintage is the most exciting to date

Technical Director Pierre-Olivier Clouet on the start of a new chapter at Cheval des Andes, the Argentinian wine project from Saint-Emilion’s Cheval Blanc

Turning the page at Cheval des Andes

I’m sitting opposite Rino Fontana, an Italian wine collector that Antonio Galloni named his Wine Personality of the Year in 2023. Fontana looks unassuming – like any other septuagenarian that you might find, cigarette in hand, knocking back an espresso in a sunny piazza. Sunglasses hang on a string around his neck, and occasionally he rifles through scraps of paper that seem to operate as a calendar and/or journal. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it was perhaps someone a little more, well, suave. Fontana has been collecting wine since the 1980s and is renowned for his cellar, a treasure trove of remarkable vintages from Piedmont’s top producers. Indeed, Galloni has dubbed him “Il Professore” for his extensive knowledge of Italian wine – despite never having worked in the industry. As Fontana scrolls through pictures on his phone, recalling recent dinners, he rolls off names and vintages that would leave any wine-lover speechless. He grew up in the Oltrepò Pavese, where his father was a stonemason, but would buy grapes and make a little wine for the family. Fontana was sent to school in Valenza, a town known for its gold industry – and he started working in a gold factory in his late teens. Aged 24, he and his best friend opened their own jewellery workshop. It was the owner of a local restaurant in nearby Mortara who introduced Fontana to the real pleasures of wine, and a bottle of Conterno’s Monfortino that made him fall head over heels for Nebbiolo – the 1958 vintage, in fact. Since that first taste, he’s opened over 150 bottles (yes, really) of the 1958 Monfortino. It was that wine that prompted Fontana to start visiting producers – an adventure in self-education. At the time, people weren’t buying wine, and Italy’s winemakers were far from fashionable. He became friends with the likes of Giuseppe Rinaldi, Bruno Giacosa and Gianfranco Soldera, rapidly securing significant allocations of their wines when few others were showing interest. Producers, in turn, suggested he had a gift – unique in his ability to understand wines in barrel and foretell their future. Today, he covers around 80,000km a year visiting producers – but the vast majority of that mileage is in Piedmont, for Fontana drinks – and collects – little other than Nebbiolo. This one grape represents around 95% of his consumption, he says, with Barolo and/or Barbaresco on the menu every day. He always has the latest releases on hand in the fridge – even some basic Langhe Nebbiolo, but at least twice a week he’ll uncork something special from the 1960s or ’80s with wine-loving friends or producers. While Nebbiolo is one of many grapes to be declared “the king of wines”, for Fontana it really does reign supreme. When I ask why, marvelling at how he could drink so much of just one variety, he shrugs: “Nebbiolo is Nebbiolo.” When I push him, he says he loves its ageability, structure and elegance – something he feels you can’t find in Pinot Noir. He recalls a recent dinner with Galloni at Il Centro in Priocca, sharing a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti’s 2004 La Tâche alongside a 1947 Borgogno Barolo and 1989 Vigna Rionda from Giacosa. Both the Barolos, he says, grew over the dinner – while the La Tâche faded slowly. For him, Burgundy (even the world’s most sought-after bottles) is no match for Nebbiolo. That’s a controversial opinion – but Fontana is not a man short of views. He dismisses the wines of Cappellano and Accomasso, while he has firm beliefs on how Nebbiolo should be made, favouring traditional winemaking with old oak – not wanting to feel the wood in the wine. He argues that too many young producers are going to Burgundy and trying to echo that style in their wines, losing their Piedmontese identity. The resulting wines are, he feels, too technical, too clean. “Great wine can’t be perfect,” he says – suggesting that those imperfections are partly what makes wine feel alive. While the most established and famous producers dominate his collection, he also likes the wines from newer names such as Trediberri, Crissante and Cascina Baricchi. Beyond Nebbiolo, he’ll dabble in certain labels of Sangiovese – Soldera, for example will pass muster, as well as SanCarlo (a producer he feels rivals the former). Montevertine’s Le Pergole Torte would previously have been a prime choice, but now he’d choose Le Boncie’s Le Trame instead. He likes Valentini and Emidio Pepe, and used to buy Gravner but feels the style changed in 2004 so stopped. He sold his jewellery business in 2000 – dedicating his time entirely to wine – visiting producers, building his collection and selling to select parties (of which FINE+RARE is lucky enough to be one). Fontana has around 9,000 bottles in his collection today. He shows us a video of his cellar – intriguingly with many of the wines stored upright. Anything post 1990 is kept on its side, but older wines stand proud in his cellar – something which he argues is better once they reach a certain age, with the cork and humidity of the cellar more important in their preservation. It’s a remarkable collection, with incredible verticals of many wines. His access seems unparalleled – receiving larger allocations than many importers, given his historical ties. He is the only individual, for example, to receive an allocation of Rinaldi’s Brunate Cru – a wine that is otherwise kept exclusively for the family. Some of his most prized bottles are Giacosa’s 1964 Santo Stefano and magnums of 1970 Monfortino (“amazing” – he says), while he has a soft spot for the youthful 2015 Soldera. Now aged 73, Fontana seems just as enchanted by wine as when he first tasted that 1958 Monfortino. I ask him if there’s a wine he is still desperate to taste, a unicorn that he’s still hunting: the answer is no. He’s been able to try every vintage from the producers he loves. It’s a rare answer for a wine lover – but “Il Professore” isn’t your average wine collector. – Photography of Rino Fontana at Il Centro by Dan Deibel Explore a selection of top verticals from Fontana’s cellar, all Italian listings or read more Editorial

Friends with Vinous founder and critic Antonio Galloni, and with a cellar that will turn you green with envy, Rino Fontana is Italy’s most famous wine collector. We sat down with the man himself to find out more about his journey into wine, incredible collection and obsession with one grape  

Antonio Galloni’s Wine Personality of the Year 2023, Rino Fontana is Italy’s most famous wine collector – we met the man to talk about his cellar

Rino Fontana – the wine collector like no other

Rino Fontana: a collector like no other

Walking into the cooperage at Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte is like stepping back in time, filled with the smell of seasoned wood, an open fire and the same tools that barrel-makers have used for centuries. Few estates have the luxury of an in-house cooper. While producers inevitably work closely with the tonnelleries (barrel-making firms, such as François Frères, Stockinger and more), having an artisan on-site, working alongside the winemaking team to craft casks exclusively for your specific terroir is different. “It’s very important for the precision of the wine,” explains Cellar Master Yann Laudeho.  Florence and Daniel Cathiard, owners of the Pessac-Léognan estate, built a cooperage on-site almost 30 years ago, in 1995, and their current cooper, Yann Dez, has been working here since 2021. The Bordeaux native’s father was a metal worker, and Dez fell into the world of barrel-making entirely by accident – having a friend who was a tonnelier, and a job opening at an opportune moment. Before he knew it, Dez had learnt the trade from some of the best coopers in the country (including one who now makes the barrels at Ch. Margaux), and spending 15 years working under Didier Fesil. Fesil was the Cathiard family’s first cooper back in 1995, who went on to create his own small tonnellerie (Tonnellerie Bordelaise), and has been named the nation’s best “Master Cooper” – twice. Indeed, Fesil is still very involved with the estate, helping choose the wood for barrels and advising on all things oak; and it was Fesil who put Dez forward for the role at Smith Haut Lafitte.  “There are no books,” Dez says, when I ask about the art of barrel-making. “It’s passed on from tonnelier to tonnelier." The first evidence of coopering as a trade dates back to 900BC – with the craft passed down the generations ever since. “I continue the tradition,” Dez says, clearly with a sense of pride in this ancient, artisanal skill. But with the dust, noise and physical labour involved, tonnellerie schools, Dez tells me, are struggling to recruit young people. It’s common for coopers to have issues with their shoulders and ears (from the non-stop hammering) – and Dez himself has broken an elbow.  In theory, the process can be mechanised – but Dez is clear on how important it is to work by hand, and not just to preserve this ancient art. “I hear the nose, I feel the resistance,” he says. Each barrel, he explains, is different – with a slightly different number of staves and slightly different shape, all adapted according to the wood he’s working with. Selecting the right wood is key – “reading” it, he explains, looking at the grain to see where potential weaknesses are, understanding where will take the most pressure and placing each stave accordingly, ensuring not a drop can seep from the finished barrel. “It’s a job that is both physical, and at the same time requires thinking,” says Dez – and this combination is much of its allure for him.  Hearing the way Dez talks about barrels is fascinating; for him, they each have a unique personality. When I ask Dez how he knows he’s made a really good barrel, he shrugs: “On le sent.” (“You feel it.”) As you toast a barrel, he tells me, the scent of the smoke changes, releasing different aromas – something I smell as he works in front of me. Knowing when it’s spent the perfect amount of time over the fire is the secret – and it’s about more than just the smell, it’s a gut instinct that he can’t quite explain.  Smith Haut Lafitte sources oak from a range of forests, and are always trialling wood from different forests, toasts and doing blind tastings, although – after over 25 years – they know what works for their wine, and terroir. Cellar Master Laudeho explains that, for him, Tronçais and Jupilles are the best – “diamonds” that flawlessly complement their site. And that balance is key; the wood works for the wine, not the other way around.  It seems like a lonely job, I comment, hammering away in his tower – but it’s not something that bothers him. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist,” he tells me. Having only himself to depend on, and knowing that he can ensure each barrel meets his exacting standards, suits him. Indeed, he doesn’t even settle for standard tools – making most himself, custom-designed to suit the way he works. He talks me through a specific hammer that he made, and how it allows him to work better and more precisely, the wooden handle almost silken from the hours of use, shaped to his hand.   The lone electronic technology to have earned a place here are noise-cancelling headphones and a Marshall speaker. He’s a musician in his spare time, and an additional perk of working alone is that he gets to spend all day listening to music. “All the barrels I’ve made,” he says, “are made with music.” He avoids anything too modern or electronic, favouring old jazz, with some reggae, ska jazz and funk in the mix, depending on the day. While he doesn’t feel the music he listens to influences his coopering, he suspects his mood does – and music is a big part of that.  Woodwork is much more than a job for Dez. I spy a beautiful chest alongside his speaker, and it’s one that he made. He has a workshop at home too, spending his free time making everything from guitar stands and toys to chandeliers – anything, he says, that isn’t straight, and therefore can’t really be done by a machine.  It’s amazing watching him work – in the same way as coopers have for centuries – with a natural intuition, ease and precision. There’s definitely something musical to it, a craft that has its own rhythm. He makes around 300 barrels a year, and they may not be soloists – but each one contributes their own note to that year’s symphony.  Explore all current listings of Ch. Smith Haut Lafitte or read more about Bordeaux 

Wooden barrels line most of the finest wine cellars around the world – and many are made by hand. Continuing our series taking you behind the scenes in Bordeaux, we ducked into the cooperage at Smith Haut Lafitte to find out more about this special craft

We visited Pessac-Leognan’s Smith Haut Lafitte to talk to the wine estate’s master cooper, Yann Dez – and find out all about the art of barrel-making

Meeting Smith Haut Lafitte’s Master Cooper

Working to the beat: Smith Haut Lafitte’s Master Cooper

There's more to Bordeaux’s 2023 vintage than the headlines will have you believe. Fresh from 10 days tasting and talking to the region’s leading producers and our commercial teams, Sophie Thorpe reports on the year – and some of the stunning wines produced    


Having spent time tasting with and talking to top producers, we dive into Bordeaux’s 2023 vintage – with everything you need to know about the wines

Bordeaux 2023 vintage overview

Bordeaux 2023: vintage overview

“I was broken-hearted,” says Tim Mondavi, his eyes glistening at the memory of how his family was forced out of their business, Robert Mondavi Winery, 20 years ago. Wine runs through the Mondavi family’s veins. Cesare Mondavi – Tim’s grandfather – made his first vintage in 1919, and the family purchased Charles Krug Winery in 1943, before Robert broke away to establish Robert Mondavi Winery in 1966. Luckily, when Constellation took over the business, the Mondavis left with “a bag of money” – something, Tim says smiling, that is better than being heartbroken and broke. He went in search of “a new love”, and so he built Continuum. The concept was simple: to “shoot for the stars”, Tim tells me, and craft a wine that would rival Bordeaux’s First Growths – as well as continue his family’s legacy in Napa. Having seen how their family business had grown, shifted and ultimately fallen into corporate hands, he and his sister Marcia wanted to keep things simple. The first few vintages were made with fruit sourced from Robert Mondavi, largely To Kalon – vineyards that Mondavi had worked for 30 years and knew inside-out. But he knew that site was everything, and thinking of Burgundy’s best wines, he looked to the hills – keen to find his own slice of “Grand Cru” terroir. So he “kicked a lot of dirt” – and in 2008, he found something.  Up-slope from Dalla Valle, above the fog line and neighbouring Colgin, a marine biologist called Leighton Taylor had planted vines on Pritchard Hill in the 1990s. He was a wine-lover and saw the roots he put down in these rocky, volcanic soils as his retirement plan. His children didn’t share his passion, and he decided to sell: enter the Mondavis. Tim Mondavi instantly realised the potential of the site and bought the 173-acre property. Southwest-facing, with sparse top-soil and the intense sunlight that this altitude offers, he named it Sage Mountain Vineyard, after the abundant wild sage found across the property. The area had been conventionally farmed and needed work, and Mondavi brought two of his old team onto the project. Together they worked to realise the potential of these rocky 70 acres of vines, regrafting, replanting and refining the farming – drawing on organic and biodynamic practices. Gradually, they started using fruit from the site for Continuum, and from the 2012 vintage the project was exclusively estate-grown, all coming from Sage Mountain Vineyard. In 2013, they completed work on a winery on-site – meaning everything was done in-house by their own team – a first for the family. For Tim, it was a big moment. The vintage happened to coincide with his 40th harvest, as well as the 100th anniversary of his father Robert’s birth – and the label bears a dove in tribute to him, flying over the vines.  Robert was not just the patriarch of the family but of the entire valley. He passed away in 2008, just a month after Tim had shown him Sage Mountain Vineyard. He was a force of nature, who not only built the family empire but put Napa on the map, fighting relentlessly for the region on the world stage. It’s hard to imagine that he was an easy man to have as a father. “There was no such thing as too much,” says Tim. “But there was no such thing as enough.”  Robert was, Tim tells me, “go, go, go” – and it’s clear Tim wants something different for his family. With Continuum, he wanted a project that could provide a balanced life – smaller than the smallest project at Robert Mondavi. Tim’s children haven’t run away from their fate or the family business. They’ve all worked at Continuum at one point or another: sons Carlo and Dante have gone on to establish Raen, their own Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir project in 2013, while Chiara has joined her father and is firmly in situ as winemaker at Continuum.  The Mondavis might be Napa royalty, but they’re also farmers – and they’re more aware of the challenges that climate change brings than anyone else. “Mother Nature has so many ways to remind us we haven’t been taking good care of her,” Tim says ruefully. The wildfires of 2017 brought that closer to home than they’d have liked. The Continuum team was two-thirds of the way through the harvest when Tim saw the glow on the horizon from his house. He instantly called to cancel the harvest, and ensure everyone stayed far away from the winery and vineyards – but his vineyard manager ignored him and drove straight up the estate, to check that none of the crew were already on-site ahead of their early pick. Luckily the team was all fine – but those fires filled Tim with fear.  They didn’t make a 2020 vintage, so the latest release – the 2021 – is the first for two years. They’ve been gradually increasing the proportion of Cabernet Franc in the blend, and the 2021 has the highest percentage to date (representing over a third of the blend). It is, Tim says, “our finest effort” – something he attributes not just to the year’s conditions, but over a decade spent getting to know each of Sage Mountain Vineyard’s 44 blocks. “To be truly great, you have to understand the site,” he says. The wine is elegant and pure, with a saline, earthy minerality that is an imprint of the property – something that runs through every vintage. Tim’s been making wine for 50 years now, but knows that he’s in a generational business. Continuum might be his new love, but he didn’t build it for himself – it’s for his children. “Our aspirations are large enough to contain the pursuit of excellence,” he says. Ambition’s never run short in the Mondavi bloodline – but, as Continuum proves, it’s backed up by not just good instincts but the drive, grit and hard graft to make those dreams a reality. The latest release of Continuum is available now

The Mondavis shaped the Napa we know today – but now Tim Mondavi is building a new future for his family with Continuum. As the 2021 vintage is released, Sophie Thorpe spoke to Tim about the project – and how it’s about much more than wine

How Tim Mondavi is building a new future for his family with Continuum, a special wine estate on Pritchard Hill in California’s Napa Valley

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