“I met Anselme Selosse when I was 13 and that really entered in my heart. He’s really a special person that changed the world of wine [for me],” Matteo Bisol tells me. It’s perhaps not what you’d expect of the young winemaker who represents the 21st generation of the Bisol family – a family that made their name with, and has become synonymous with, fine Prosecco.  Meeting the iconic Champagne producer – considered by many the pioneer behind the region’s grower movement – has stuck in Bisol’s mind, however. Partly, he believes, because he was at just the right age – partway between child and adult, his mind open to new ideas. “He was always talking about wine as a living thing, you know,” Bisol says. “I got it and I always thought it was very important.” He’s been immersed in the family business as long as he can remember. From the age of 10, he spent his summers working in the Bisol winery. “Once I arrived in the morning five minutes late and my father fired me. And then he hired me again because he didn’t want me to leave, being at home doing nothing,” says Bisol, laughing at the memory.  But Matteo Bisol has left the hills of Valdobbiadene behind, now in charge of his family’s very personal project: Venissa. It was Matteo’s father, Gianluca that embarked on the adventure over 15 years ago – but somewhat by accident. He was visiting the island of Torcello, which is home to one of the oldest churches in Venice – founded in 639 AD. “In front of the basilica, there’s a beautiful garden – a little bit hidden – but he saw some vine leaves,” Bisol explains. “He knocked on the door of the owner and introduced himself.” Gianluca spoke to the woman that owned the garden, who told him that a few of the vines were a local golden-skinned variety – Dorona. And down the rabbit hole, he went…  He started researching the grape and its history – discovering that viticulture had long been a part of life in the Venice Lagoon. For almost 2,500 years, vines had been grown on the islands – an integral element of the region’s culture. Before motors and speedboats, the islands were a three-hour journey from the mainland, so isolated that they had a totally different culture – “a culture based on nature, based on farming”, Bisol explains. Their isolation forced self-sufficiency, with every bit of space on each island used to grow something. With religion integral to Venice and indeed Italy’s history, wine – used for twice daily mass – was an essential part of life.   This history lives on in local nomenclature: one of the islands is called Le Vignole, one was known as Vigna Murata (now Lazzaretto Nuovo), San Francesco del Deserto was previously called Isola delle Due Vigne, a road on Murano is called Via della Vigne. Many islanders made wine, with presses for the fruit of the vines in their back garden or field. But as the islands of the lagoon became less distant, with the zip of an engine, many of the vineyards were pulled up, and those that remained were destroyed by the catastrophic floods of 1966.   After this initial discovery, Gianluca Bisol started seeking out Dorona vines – a quest that Matteo remembers vividly. “Really from the beginning, I was on the boat, with the bicycles on Sant’Erasmo looking for more Dorona grapes,” he says, describing their search for a variety that was – at the time – on the brink of extinction. It was a farmer, Gastone, on the island of Sant’Erasmo who really opened Gianluca’s eyes to working with Dorona. He was one of the last farmers in Venice to still make wine for personal consumption.   “A great person, a very beautiful person and very wise – he introduced us to the Dorona history and to the way he was making the wine in the past,” Bisol tells me. Thereafter, Gianluca hunted down cuttings and eventually –in 2006-2007 – planted 0.8 hectares of Dorona on the island of Mazzorbo.   It was tradition – rather than current fashions – that led them to make a white wine with extended skin contact. The wine had always been made with skin contact, and they decided to push it further, with a month of maceration, extracting as much flavour as possible from the unique variety. They also decided that the wines needed time to find their balance after such a long period of maceration. They considered barrel ageing, but didn’t want to change the profile of the wines with the flavour of oak, so instead opted for concrete – and two years’ élevage. The resulting wines have a fine phenolic grip and distinct mineral, even saline, freshness, with a nutty complexity that is reminiscent of mature white Hermitage, Burgundy or Jura Savagnin and Chardonnay – yet also unlike anything else. It’s this unique character that Bisol feels is why the wine is such a success. “We never tried to fit Venissa in any category… we just make the wine that we feel is the right thing for Venissa grapes,” he says  Since the first vintage in 2010, and when Matteo took over in 2013, they’ve learnt a huge amount. “There are parts of the vineyard – different parcels – that have a lower salt concentration in the soil,” Bisol explains. The more saline soils restrict the yield, producing smaller and even more concentrated berries. It was this discovery that led to the introduction of Venusa, a second wine that is made for earlier drinking, in 2017 and comes from the less saline plots. Of course, with two wines, it means that the already tiny volumes of the top white, Venissa Bianco, are even smaller – with just 2,000 bottles made a year. “It’s such a small vineyard that we know the plants one by one,” Bisol says, with an almost paternal fondness.  With each vintage, as well, they have pushed quality even further – learning how to get the most from the previously almost extinct Dorona. They’ve been making the wine for 20 years, but – as Bisol says – “Twenty years means you made it 20 times. Twenty times is nothing. Every year we see how the wine is responding, and we learn every year more things that allow us to make better and better wines.”  And making wine in this remarkable place, with its salt-soaked soils, is far from easy – something that the flood, or “acquaalta”, of November 2019 brought vividly to life. Although the vineyard is shielded by a wall, it couldn’t hold back the water – and once receded they had to wash the vines one by one with fresh water, and the soil as well, to try to remove the potentially catastrophically high salt content. It was only when the vines emerged from dormancy in the spring that they knew whether or not they’d done enough to save them.  “It also reminded us how resilient this grape variety is, which is actually the resilience of Venice – which has been a city or republic for more than 1,000 years,” Bisol says. The Dorona grape, like the region’s people, has adapted to its surroundings. Fortunately, with the introduction of MOSE in 2020, the city’s barrier system designed to shield it from high tides, flooding hasn’t threatened their crop – and vineyard – since.   It's clear talking to Bisol, that Venissa is much more than a wine. Not only is it a symbol of Venice’s resilience, but a project to preserve the city’s great traditions.The glass bottles come from the island of Murano, but it’s the labels that are particularly special. They work with Marino Menegazzo of Mario Berta Battiloro, the last goldbeater not just in Venice, but Europe – who hammers out a sheet of goldleaf for each and every bottle they produce, from the workshop that once was home to Titian. The design changes each year, with the leaf for each bottle very slightly different thanks to its hand-crafted nature. With Marino Menegazzo in his 70s, and no one to inherit the family business, this tradition – like the Dorona wines – is at risk.  “This part of the history of Venice, it’s an history that is very important and our role at Venissa is really to keep this history alive,” Bisol says. “For us, winemaking is really important, of course my family comes from winemaking, it has a history of 500 years in winemaking. But when we realised the history that was behind this city, behind agriculture and grape growing, and behind all these other handcrafting techniques, it became even more important for Venissa, as our role of preserving the heritage rather than just making a wine… We really believe that preserving our tradition is even more important than winemaking.”   While the family started with just 0.8 hectares on Mazzorbo, they soon started making a red from 2.75 hectares on Santa Cristina (with vines that were previously farmed by the Swarovski family). Now, they’ve planted Dorona on two more islands, harvesting the fruit for the first time this year. Under the Bisol family’s protective eye, it’s clear that this special Venetian tradition has found its guardian angel.  The Venissa wines are exclusively available from FINE+RARE in the UK; if you’d like to visit Venissa, please contact us. Browse all current listings and find out more about the estate here. 

Venissa is an estate like no other, crafting wine from the indigenous Dorona grape grown on islands in the Venice Lagoon. Sophie Thorpe spoke to Matteo Bisol about his family’s mission to preserve this unique Venetian tradition 

The Bisol family has made it their mission to save viticulture in the Venice Lagoon. We talk to Matteo Bisol about their island vineyards and making Dorona

Matteo Bisol of Venissa on making wine in Venice

Fighting the tide: Venissa’s quest to save Venice’s vineyards

When people say they’ve put their blood, sweat and tears into something, more often than not, it’s a figure of speech. This is not the case for Bimber Distillery founder Dariusz Plazewski, who has put everything into the build of his dream Speyside distillery, Dunphail. The day before we speak, Plazewski was on the roof of one of his new distillery buildings, mucking in and making sure the mammoth project that was a lifetime in the making stays on track.   The Polish-born Plazewski is a third-generation distiller – or more accurately, moonshiner – who emigrated to London 20 years ago. After observing the English craft distilling boom from afar, the trained architect seized the opportunity to put his family’s legacy and knowhow to good use and set about building Bimber, a single malt whisky distillery based in West London. Bimber’s inaugural bottling, The First, sold out within three hours of release in 2019 – and demand has far outstripped supply ever since.    Fast forward three years and Plazewski is mere months away from realising his dream of producing a single malt Scotch whisky. But it hasn’t been easy.   “There are lots of challenges,” he tells me matter-of-factly. When we catch up, after two aborted attempts, the Master Distiller sounds ever-so-slightly weary – and it’s not hard to fathom why. Today, he is speaking from London, where he’s been “sorting out a few things” at Bimber. He’s boarding a flight back to Scotland in a couple of days and then he’s taking a much-needed holiday – where he confesses he will be on email constantly.   Rest is not in his nature. (Plazewski has been pinballing from one project to the next for decades. By the end of 2022, he says he will have “given up” his other business and solely focus on spirits.) Nor is adhering to the status quo.    Since founding Bimber in 2015, the Master Distiller has prided himself on being a bit of a renegade. Where others have embraced modern whisky-making practices, Plazewski has been staunchly traditional in his approach – and it has served him exceedingly well. “Whisky was always my passion and when I found out that there was a craft movement of whisky and gin distilling, I just started researching,” he tells me. “It took me a long time but I wanted to do something different. I wanted to always do something which was a bit old-fashioned.”  Plazewski’s father and grandfather before him (illegally) made wine, spirits and beer in his native Poland – Bimber translates as “moonshine” in Polish – and Plazewski was an eager protégé with a natural talent from a young age. I refrain from asking how young.   “The good thing is that I understand all the production, all the process, all the fermentation, and how to make alcohol,” he tells me. “Not only whisky but how to make any alcohol really. Sense of smell, touch, and all this just naturally comes to me.”   Plazewski says his fate was sealed the moment he travelled to Scotland and fell in love with Speyside single malts. Dunphail was always going to happen – he just didn’t know when. Starting his (legal) distilling career with Bimber was a shrewd decision. English whisky was then a relative unknown, so Plazewski used this scene as his sandbox to prove to himself and others that traditional whisky production should not be consigned to the history books.   Bimber was, and for the time being still is, a small-scale traditional whisky-making operation. Local barley is grown on a single farm in neighbouring Hampshire. It is floor-malted at Britain’s oldest maltster, Warminster Maltings, and hand-mashed. The two copper pot stills are direct-fired (with a flame, as the name suggests, rather than the more modern and efficient method of steam) and fermentation times are twice the industry average at seven days.  These practices are astoundingly rare in today’s modern whisky world. The majority of producers abandoned floor maltings (the method of malting grain by hand on large malting floors) in favour of industrial malting processes and did away with direct-firing stills (in favour of steam) decades ago, deeming them inefficient and costly. While it is possible to find distillers who adopt some of these techniques – notable examples being Laphroaig, Glenfarclas and Bowmore – it is incredibly rare to find a producer who is able or willing to apply all these labour-intensive and budget-zapping practices.   “I will never be a distiller without floor maltings,” he says physically baulking at the idea of producing whisky any other way. “Never. No. For me, it is crucial,” he adds.    With Dunphail, Plazewski is going one step further than Bimber and building his own traditional floor maltings on-site. This will put Dunphail in a highly exclusive group, and the move has received mixed responses from Plazewski’s peers.   “For me it is very important,” Plazewski says. “I know many people said, wow are you crazy because this is hard work, this is lots of involvement, why are you doing it?”  I can’t help asking him the same. To which he says: “Because nobody is doing this anymore and I want to continue this craft, I want people to see how the whisky was made before. I think it is going to be good fun and I think this is going to be a great feature for our distillery.”  In addition to floor maltings, Dunphail’s stills will also be direct-fired – Glenmorangie was the first to install steam-heated stills in 1887 and countless others followed until only a handful of direct-fired producers remained. Plazewski is the first to acknowledge the practice of heating stills in this traditional way is far less efficient and costly but for him it was non-negotiable and vital to produce the highest-quality Speyside whisky possible – fruit-forward, oily and medium-bodied. He is also in the minority sourcing Dunphail’s barley and peat locally. There are undoubtedly easier routes to produce whisky but the mere suggestion is sacrilege to Plazewski.  Steadfast on his goal, Plazewski set about finding the perfect location to produce traditional single malt Scotch whisky. After years of searching, he settled on a location in the heart of Speyside – a typically renegade move as the majority of new distilleries have been built outside this iconic region. He explains: “The location was really difficult and challenging as well to be honest.”  “I love Speyside – it’s my favourite part in Scotland. First of all, it is a great area because it has got microclimate, so it’s not too cold there and it’s not too rainy. And it’s pretty sunny.” Additionally, he says: “Speyside whiskies are my favourite.”  When asked if he feels the weight of this tradition or pressure to produce a stand-out Speyside whisky in one of the most densely populated whisky-making regions in the world, he says not.   “We are tiny. We’re not going to be competing with the big, established brands. Most of the new distilleries are not built in Speyside, they are mostly built in Fife area. And not many are really going the route we are with the floor maltings and old-fashioned techniques we are trying to apply.”  In addition to the many challenges that come with building a distillery to a blueprint that no longer exists, Plazewski has embattled with supply chain issues following Brexit, Covid and now the war in Ukraine. It’s a minor miracle – and a testament to the tenacity of Plazewski – that the Dunphail build is on schedule and production is set to begin, as planned, at the end of the year.   When asked how he feels, Plazewski pauses for a moment, takes a short intake of breath and hurriedly says: “It’s amazing. It’s hard work. I need a break. That’s why I need this holiday because it’s not only physical work, it’s the mental as well – planning everything.”  He pauses again. “It’s been a stressful and challenging time. But we are on schedule, we’ve planned this well.”  After Dunphail is up and running, and Plazewski has trained his dream team to the standard of Bimber, you wonder what’s next. You sense he won’t just stop after realising his Scottish dream, and that there will be a new North Star.    When asked, he responds to the question with a wry smile, indicating this is not the first time it has been posed to him by others, or even himself. “I would say yes, I’m done after this, but people I know and people around me are saying to me, you are never going to stop, you’re going to find something else.  “But I would say I think I’ve done my dream and when this [distillery] is going to be open, I’m thinking to really concentrate and not do anything more. I don’t think I will put too much pressure on myself and my family again.” A seed of doubt creeps in and then he says resolutely: “No, this is it, it’s going to be my dream, it’s going to be super exciting and I’m not going to go for anything else. I’m just going to enjoy the time and share the drams.” We’ll ask him again in five years’ time.   For the time being, at least, Plazewski (and the wider whisky world) is satiated with turning modern whisky-making on its head and bringing fiercely traditional practices back to one of the oldest and most prestigious whisky regions in the world.   Browse all Scotch whisky or read more Editorial

For the past seven years Dariusz Plazewski has led the vanguard of English whisky-making at Bimber. With his first Scotch distillery, Dunphail, months away from production, the indefatigable architect-cum-Master-Distiller tells Holly Motion how he and his distilleries were built to be different   

Bimber has become a whisky-making icon. Now Master Distiller Dariusz Plazewski has set his sights on Scotland with Dunphail. We explore the ethos behind both

How the brains behind Bimber built Dunphail  

Dariusz Plazewski: grand designs

Many believe Scotch blends are single malt whisky’s poor relation in price, quality and taste profile. In actuality, this could not be further from the truth. It takes great mastery to produce a blend. Some of the most exquisite single malts – that people pay handsomely for – are blended in perfect harmony by some of the most talented whisky makers in the world to create remarkable blended whiskies. And yet, this lesser label seemingly sticks to blended whisky – as it has for decades. The tide does, however, show signs of turning as more collectable and well-aged blended whiskies are appearing on the market. Few people know more about blended Scotch than Colin Scott and Dr Emma Walker. Scott held the title of Chivas Brothers Master Blender for 31 years and today, after a very short-lived retirement, produces superlative blends for remarkable spirits curators The Last Drop Distillers. Walker has also not long stepped into a new role, succeeding Dr Jim Beveridge as Johnnie Walker Master Blender. Dr Walker (no relation to Johnnie) and her trusty team of 12 highly skilled blenders preside over more than 10 million casks of whisky from 30 distilleries across the length and breath of Scotland to create all the Scotch in Diageo’s extensive portfolio. “Because it’s a blending operation, we just call it all blends,” Walker says – adding, with a chuckle, “just to confuse people.” The same team that looks after Diageo’s single malts looks after all its Scotch whisky, including the blends, new releases and highly collectable Cask of Distinction releases. At last count, there are 138 whisky distilleries in Scotland. Of these, 131 are malt distilleries and seven are grain, and Diageo by far and away owns the most at 30. It is Walker’s job to know these distilleries (28 malt and two grain) inside and out to produce all of Diageo’s Scotch whisky bottlings. “Our single malts are amazing. Our single grains are amazing. But so are the blended Scotch whiskies,” she says with unabashed excitement. Walker is three months into her new role at the helm of one of the world’s most formidable blending operations – and is clearly loving every minute, despite being “slightly terrified”. A chemist by trade, she is acutely aware of Johnnie Walker’s legacy as the world’s most foremost whisky blender and she carries this responsibility, that might weigh heavy on others, with a healthy dose of reverence and buckets of zeal. The ebullient Colin Scott has worked in the Scotch whisky industry for almost 50 years, blending some of the world’s most well-known and coveted whiskies for Chivas Brothers. There’s little he hasn’t seen and you sense he’s just as excited by the goings on today as he was as a young whippersnapper in the blending room half a century ago. “It’s interesting that everybody talks about [single] malts rather than blends,” Scott muses. “For the last 100 years, blends have actually dominated global sales – over 90% is blended Scotch and less than 10% is [single] malts.” Scott thinks the reason for this is simple: “People can understand a single malt because it comes from a single distillery. You can go to it, you can see it, you can touch it, and you can feel it. It’s a little bit more sexy than a blend because a blend has anything between three and a 100-plus whiskies in it.” But, what many fail to realise, according to Scott, is the skill required to create these blended whiskies – at all price points. “There is an art to blending. It’s quite a complicated art,” he says wistfully. And an ever-changing one at that. “A lot of people don’t understand that if you take a premium blend, it might have 50 whiskies in the blend one year, the next year it might have 60, the following year it might have 45, the next year might have 48 – so year on year, because of availability within the inventory, the actual number of whiskies in the blend will change. “And it is the art of the blender who brings and rebalances all of those flavours back so the taste experience remains consistent.” Walker picks up the point: “You take these individual great characters and you just bring them together. You’re not doing something that cheapens it. You’re not doing something where you’re trying to bulk things out, you’re trying to bring those different, individual characters together in the best way possible. You’re amplifying rather than cancelling each other out.” Walker is always trying to reach the golden ratio for the desired mouthfeel, texture, aroma, taste and length. When she achieves this, Walker says: “It’s just really exciting. To find these amazing individual things and bring them together, it’s heaven in a glass.” It takes years of experience and skill – passed down from one generation to the next – to achieve this divine state or you’d have to face the wrath of the loyal drinker who knows what should be in that bottle. “You’re always looking for that consistent quality,” Scott explains spiritedly. “Whether it’s standard, premium, super premium or ultra ultra premium. “Working at Chivas, you would use pretty much the same amount of time on a standard blend as a niche blend,” Scott says with great candour, “because you just don’t compromise on quality – it is not part of the game.” Scott has blended at all the levels during his career. His decision to join the Last Drop in 2021 was somewhat serendipitous. Scott and the late Last Drop co-founder Tom Jago were responsible for one of the most successful blends of all time: Chivas 18. The remarkable spirits curators have championed blended whisky since day dot. Founders Jago and long-time friend James Espey OBE initially set out to bottle single malts – because the demand was there at the higher end – but that all changed when the formidable duo were bewitched by a certain 1960 blended Scotch. This became the Last Drop’s inaugural release in 2008 and is said to have been the best whisky Jago ever tasted during his lifetime. Scott is the first to acknowledge that blended whiskies carrying an age statement are an easier sell than those without – his debut for the Last Drop was a very special 50-year-old signature blend. “If you’ve got an age on a product, people know exactly what they are dealing with,” he says matter-of-factly. While the Master Blender does feel there is a groundswell of appreciation for blended whiskies, helped by older bottlings and ever-increasing auction prices, he understands there is work to be done to remove this legacy inferiority association. “People have been drinking blends forever,” Scott explains. “But because it is usually the standard blend, they don’t really consider it special.” He continues: “Many think blends are inferior and the main reason for that was way back in the day, 30, 40, 50 years ago, people regarded grain whisky as an industrial spirit because a grain distillery, even today, makes 10 times the spirit than a malt whisky distillery makes. “Malt whisky distilleries are maybe now making 10 million or 20 million litres a year – the big ones – and a grain distillery produces over 100 million litres. I wouldn’t consider it a cheaper product, because once you have bought the cask and matured the product you’re pretty much talking the same value as a mature malt. “And this concept, that this ‘industrial’ grain spirit was added to the malt just to give volume in the actual blend is basically nonsense,” he says animatedly. Scott ardently believes grain whiskies have a very important role to play from a blender’s point of view because it has its own flavour and character. He explains: “When you taste the grain and add it with malts, it actually promotes and harmonises and brings those sort of heavier flavours of the malts together. “If you change the percentage of the grain in the blend, it will change the balance of the malts and the grains, and change the taste experience of the final blend. It’s not just a case of you just blend the malts and then add the grain for the sake of it to give you volume. You have to put it all together because if you don’t, you get a different product.” Walker seconds this. “Some of the best, most amazing [grain] whiskies I’ve got to try was when I was looking at making the John Walker 50-year-old Masters' Edition with Jim and Maureen and it was just phenomenal.” Her face lights up as she recalls that time and takes a moment to finish her train of thought. “Amazing, amazing grain whiskies,” she says with a smile. “And at those ages, when you taste them, they make your mouth water, they are so luscious, and fruity and it’s just astounding. But when you mix them together with these great individual casks of single malts, you have that lusciousness and that fruitiness but you also have these other flavours coming and mixing together.” A large part of Walker’s new role is extolling the virtues of all Scotch whiskies – grains, malts, blends, single malts and single casks – to the world. A lack of in-person events, which are slowly starting to pepper the calendar again, have presented an additional challenge but you’d be foolish to think anything can stop the new Johnnie Walker Master Blender from spreading the gospel. For Scott, it’s a case of once tasted, never forgotten. “I always feel like a great blend is the blend that has huge complexity but there is no individual flavour or character that dominates from the nose to taste to finish,” Scott tells me. “You take a sip and you smile and you put it down and it just invites you to have another one. Because you think wow, that is something I must taste it again.” With more remarkable blended whiskies to be found than ever before, you feel it won’t be long before the rest of the world is singing from the same hymn sheet. Browse all Scotch or read more Editorial 

Blended Scotch whisky doesn’t always get the respect it deserves. Part of this reason is legacy, part is misinformation. Holly Motion explores why blended whiskies are just as worthy of a place in your spirits collection as single malts

Johnnie Walker’s Dr Emma Walker and The Last Drop’s Colin Scott on why blended Scotch whiskies are as complex and beguiling as single malts.

Exploring the brilliance of blended whisky

Blended whisky: a marriage made in heaven

Historically peat was used as a fuel source. In recent history, it has been a source of great fervour and one-upmanship as whisky producers clambered to create the peatiest whisky on the market.  For the most part, this narrative and competition has played out on the remote and beguiling Hebridean isle of Islay and its nine malt distilleries. One even deciding the prefix “super” was required on the label because “heavily-peated” was no longer sufficient. But this could all be about to change as Seattle-based Westland Distillery finetunes an industry first: locally-peated American single malt whiskey.   “We are not trying to make it taste like Islay,” Co-Founder and Managing Director Matthew Hofmann says. “We want Solum to exhibit its own terroir and its own flavour influence so long as it tastes good.”   In the 10 years since it was founded, Westland has sought to challenge every stage of whisk(e)y-making convention from barley, casks and now peat. For the past five years the team has been encountering setbacks while they navigated the uncharted territory of producing peated malt in the United States. The first was the discovery that a peat malting company didn’t exist in America, despite Washington State boasting 50,000 acres of peat.   While Hofmann worked on options closer to home, Westland turned to the historic Glasgow-based malt producer Baird’s. But he knew he had struck on something and eventually started working with a start-up malting company, Skagit Valley Malting, to produce what the company believes is the first commercially produced batch of peated malts in America.   Pioneering a locally-peated whiskey created all sorts of headaches – or as Hofmann calls them “interesting challenges” – for the team. In one of the first blind tastings, peat flavour notes were entirely absent.   “When you are trying something new like this, there is an inherent amount of risk,” Hofmann says. “It’s very much an ongoing process and we are far from being finished. It’s more accurate to say we have barely begun on this project.”   Westland uses approximately two cubic yards of peat from a local 30-acre bog which equates to a month’s production and roughly 100 casks of whiskey a year. Whereas others typically cut and drain peat – which has a negative impact on carbon dioxide and methane release, and damages the ecology of the area – Westland uses a different process with a backhoe which keeps the bog intact apart from the small amount of peat they use.   “The stuff we have got out here is wild,” Hofmann says with unfettered excitement. “There’s 11 different species of stagnant mosses. There’s wild cranberries. There’s wild crab-apples. There’s a lot more woody materials – cedar – that end up making it into the bog itself because the area is still heavily wooded as well. So, the result on the peat and aroma is very different.”   Hofmann said Westland will release Solum – Latin for “soil” – in winter 2023 but admits he doesn’t know what the product will taste like yet. He says there is a Mezcal profile at this stage, with vegetal smokiness and spice, but cask impact factors are currently unknown.   “This has been one of the most difficult things we have worked on here at Westland,” he says. “Which is saying something because we have a habit of diving headfirst into things we know very little about.”  One of the main challenges, Hofmann says, is the lack of industry and by extension experts in the country. “Nobody understands the impact of peat and how to use it,” he explains. “That can be quite interesting because when you’re learning it from scratch and you have zero base line knowledge, you tend to approach things in a different way.”   This has led to further innovation in production with engineers at the helm of the project and meant sustainability has been high on the agenda in the notoriously eco-cognisant region.   “We don’t quite know yet what the path is with Solum,” he adds. “Is it going to be about the different areas of the bog and peat flavours you might get from that – kind of like Colere is with barley? Or is it going to be about a general Washington State peat flavour?”  The exact destination may be unknown, but it’s guaranteed to be an entirely new take on a very old tradition.   Browse all current whisky listings or read more Editorial 

It’s one of the oldest styles of whisky in the world and has been known to unite as much as it divides. So why is a Pacific Northwest distillery moving heaven and earth to produce the first batch of American peated malts? Holly Motion digs into it 

Digging into why Pacific Northwest distillery Westland is moving heaven and earth to produce the first batch of American peated malts. 

Digging into American peated malts

Breaking new ground

Winemaker Jessica Servet has certainly been busy since our last visit to Hegarty Chamans, an enchanting vineyard in the hills of the Minervois. The winery’s success over the last few years and conversion to biodynamics has earned them an enviable reputation – both abroad and locally. Servet has since been elected deputy mayor of the local village and asked to take the lead on environmental sustainability issues in the wider district. Once a team of outsiders – with the estate founded by Englishman Sir John Hegarty and his wife Philippa, they are now increasingly influential in the region. But this wasn’t always the case: Hegarty Chamans has always seen itself as the “black sheep” of the Minervois.  From the outset it had a very clear goal to promote organic principles, which back in 2002 was radical for the region. The estate was also keen to produce wines of a certain style, wines that were elegant and very pure, resisting what Servet describes as “the make-up” of products that can be (and are) widely used in the region to affect the style and flavour profile of the wines. “People want the wines very ripe but with acidity,” Servet explains, “so they simply pick late and add acidity in the winery. This is something we are strongly against. We want to produce a balance in the wine without manipulation.” In the southern French heat, it can be tricky to produce wines that are fully ripe, while also keeping the alcohol in check and retaining freshness. Servet explains the key to their success is not to push the vines too hard. “You look around and some vignerons are willing to push their vines to the extreme to maximise yield, 80 to 90 hl/ha is not unusual for the region. The vines are weak, susceptible to uneven ripening and disease and finding balance in the wine is not easy. We realised we had to drop right down to 25 to 30 hl/ha to find that natural balance.”  She goes on to explain this approach produced a wine style that initially was deemed “not Minervois enough”. Their wines had even been rejected by the appellation at tasting (to carry the appellation’s name, wines have to be presented to a tasting panel).  The irony is that their purist attempts to reflect the vineyard were seen as atypical of the region. This rejection, while unhelpful, did not steer them off course. Thankfully in more recent years their philosophy and the success of the wines both locally and further afield has seen their approach become influential in what is a true representation of Minervois, or
perhaps what is more important for Servet, a true representation of the Hegarty Chamans vineyards. It is a very particular site and not dissimilar to the likes of the secluded wineries of Ch. Rayas, further north in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, or even the secluded vineyard of Soldera in Tuscany. What they all have in common, alongside low yields, is a belief that great vineyard sites need biodiversity to produce great wine.  All these vineyards are surrounded by forests that not only protect the vineyard from chemical infiltration from neighbouring sites, but benefit from a rich ecosystem that protects soil health and the vine’s natural resistance to disease, extending its natural life. The ultimate goal is to have a vineyard in perfect self-sustaining health. Servet believes this rich biodiversity is key to the vineyard working with its surrounding environment. Animals are a fundamental part of this: the estate raises a small flock of sheep which eliminates the weeds which grow between the vines and provides natural fertiliser, supplemented by other organic manures.  They also keep bees and prepare their own composts which are energised using specific biodynamic preparations. After spreading on agricultural soils, they encourage microbiological life and the mineral and organic richness which Servet believes is at the source of the strong terroir expression found in the wines. Beyond Hegarty Chamans, Servet is also encouraging others to employ a sustainable approach. In the region, all three of the main wineries are now organic and her latest domestic project is to organise a communal composting system for all residents living in the region.  Hegarty Chamans’ top cuvée, Black Knight, comes from the estate’s finest vineyards and is made only in the best vintages. We were fortunate to taste the 2016 on a number of occasions earlier this year, from barrel and following bottling (which is exclusively in magnum). We were blown away by the quality, the textural richness of the wine, the layering of the tannins and the purity of fruit – which is really special. It certainly has the signature elegance the winery has always promoted above anything else, but there is Minervois power too. Servet knows in the run up to harvest whether there will be a Black Knight cuvée – and in 2016, it proved to be a very easy decision. “We had enough rain in the spring to see us through the summer with very steady weather, no heat spikes and very even ripening, it was the most relaxed season I can remember,” she explains. The cuvée is made typically from the same favoured plots. Syrah, which makes up 80% of the blend, always comes from the Rabbit vineyard. “It's special due to the particular exposition of the vineyard and the effects of a distinct red and white clay in the soil. It produces an unbelievable freshness to the Syrah from this site,” says Servet.  The Carignan (typically around 10% of the blend) always comes from the oldest vines on the entire property, high up on the hill above the winery, 60 to 70 years in age and offering consistency every year. The Grenache, however, is not always from the same site, and is often chosen after vinification.  “I know the flavour profile I am looking for and when I find it, it goes in. The best expression of Grenache is based on picking it at exactly the right time. It gives you incredibly pure strawberry jam flavour with white pepper. When you capture both that sweet and spicy flavour in the wine you know you have got it right,” explains Servet. Using only natural yeast, the grapes go through fermentation and undergo a four-week maceration with gentle extraction, with the wine kept at a low temperature to retain aromatics. Only the free-run juice used for Black Knight – again retaining the elegance in the wine. The wine is then aged in a mix of one, two and three-year-old 300-litre barriques, Stockinger and Séguin Moreau barrels for 22-24 months. It is this long élevage that creates the wonderful layered texture in the wine. “There are lots of tannins in the wine and it needs this time to fully integrate in barrel,” Servet says. As I push further to understand the secret behind this cuvée, Servet admits there is always a sense of mystery in winemaking. A lot of the time her work is done on instinct and how she feels. Servet explains that if she is in a bad mood, she doesn't go near the wines. "There is energy here and I trust in that. I feel it in the vineyards and I feel it in the winery.” There is certainly a bit of magic that goes on in winemaking and the vineyards of Hegarty Chamans are certainly special – as you can feel in the wine. The 2016 Black Knight is the finest cuvée we have tasted from the property, and it is fast becoming one of the most exciting wines from the south of France.  Find out more about Hegarty Chamans and browse all listings

Ahead of the latest release of Hegarty Chamans’ top cuvée, Black Knight, we caught up with Winemaker Jessica Servet to find out more about what makes this secluded vineyard in the hills of the Minervois so special

Winemaker Jessica Servet talks about what makes the secluded vineyard of Hegarty Chamans’ top wine cuvée Black Knight in the hills of Minervois so special. 

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