The 2023 vintage was rare for Burgundy – offering both quantity and quality. But it isn’t quite that simple, with an atypical growing season, almost too much fruit, and a less homogenous crop. We report on the vintage and its wines – the best of which are remarkable

The 2023 vintage was rare for Burgundy – offering both quantity and quality. We report on the growing season and the wines it produced

Burgundy 2023 vintage overview

Burgundy 2023: vintage overview

Some wine regions dance to the beat of their own drum. From the sweeter reds of Ethiopia’s Rift Valley to the soft-styled fizz of Altos de Pinto Bandeira, Arnica Rowan explores far-flung regions with distinctive approaches to growing vines and making wine – almost exclusively for their own people

Arnica Rowan explores wines that don’t make it to the international market – with distinctive styles from Ethiopia, Brazil, Thailand and beyond

Discover the wines of Ethiopia, Brazil and beyond

Not for export

The four-wheel drive pulls up and we pile out – Marco Pallanti’s two Jack Russells (Bach and Masetto) leading the charge as they tumble down and into the vineyard in front of us. The vines stretch down a steep slope, three triangular slithers slanting severely to a point, forming a natural amphitheatre, and Siena’s iconic tower just visible on the horizon, 20km to the south. CEO Lorenza Sebasti, her and Pallanti’s son Arturo, our Buying Director Corentin Margier and I are standing in Castello di Ama’s Montebuoni vineyard, which gives its name to their Riserva bottling. It’s the final stop in our tour of the various sites that make up the property’s 75 hectares of vines.  Just tasting Castello di Ama’s wines tells you that this is a special place, but of course there is no substitute for getting your feet on the ground, walking the vines and seeing the site yourself. Since four Roman families re-discovered this hilltop site in the 1970s, it has been lovingly restored, with significant investment in the vineyards and winery – and the original 55-hectare estate has grown to 115 hectares today (with 75 hectares of vines and 40 of olive groves), not to mention the extensive art collection that dots the property.  The vineyards are spread across four valleys, with each site within a 1.5-kilometre radius of the winery in Gaiole-in-Chianti. For winemaker Pallanti, this proximity is one of the keys to quality, not only allowing them to really understand each site, but also ensuring there is minimal time between picking fruit and getting it into the winery. For each parcel, they aim to have the fruit in the tank in under two hours. The property all sits between 420 and 530 metres above sea-level, on the higher side for the region and another defining element for Castello di Ama, lending their wines great freshness and finesse.  The northern flank of the estate is the 16.1-hectare La Casuccia, dominated by stony clay soils and surrounded by stone walls. Here the “rich, fat soil” (as described by Arturo Pallanti) is home to largely Sangiovese, with one historical parcel of Merlot. The tenderloin of the property, it produces opulent and expressive wines, and a single-vineyard Gran Selezione is made in only top vintages (as for Bellavista).  Moving south you come to San Lorenzo which forms the foundation of the eponymous Gran Selezione, a wine made every vintage. While the vintages from 1982 to 1990 were made exclusively with fruit from this vineyard, it has evolved to become a blend of plots – including fruit from Bellavista and La Casuccia in particular in the years they aren’t made. The soils here are chalky yet with plenty of clay-rich schist – a site that doesn’t have the extremes of Montebuoni, Bellavista or La Casuccia, but brings together some of the best characters of them all in its 16.5 hectares.  Sandwiched between San Lorenzo and Bellavista lies L’Apparita, the special three-hectare plot of Merlot that is behind Tuscany’s first – and one of its most iconic – Merlot wines. Clay, chalk and the altitude (500 metres) create a wine that has both power and freshness. The neighbouring Bellavista produces some of Castello di Ama’s most powerful, yet fine and floral, wines – and is home to their oldest vines. South/southwest-facing, its 22.5 hectares of vines (around 80% Sangiovese, with the remainder Malvasia Nera) bask in the sunshine, sitting in stony, clay-chalk soils. In top vintages, they produce a single-site Gran Selezione from Bellavista (first made in 1978) – an impressive and age-worthy wine.  The final piece of the puzzle is Montebuoni – where we’re standing. Pallanti and Sebasti purchased this 14.7-hectare slice of vineyard in 1997, naming it after the village opposite. Arturo tells us how as a child he once tried to ride his bike up the slope – a mistake he never made again. The gradient here is so drastic that even driving down it in a pick-up frays the nerves, working from the chalky scree that feels destined to leave the wheels skidding, down to the more clay-rich foot of the vineyard. The vines here are divided between Sangiovese (around half the site), with Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Malvasia Nera – and the wines reflect the site’s angular slopes, pointed and driven with a backbone of bright acidity.  It’s been over 40 years since Pallanti arrived at the estate, and over 30 since Sebasti took over as CEO. Together they have nurtured this remarkable property, weaving together the threads of these special vineyards to craft wines that set the benchmark for the region. Neither are set to retire any time soon, but now Arturo has returned to join the family business – adding to the complex patchwork that defines this soulful estate.  Explore all Castello di Ama listings or read more Editorial 

We have long championed the wines of Castello di Ama – an estate that crafts some of Chianti, and Tuscany’s, best wines. We visited the property to dive into their special terroir; here we walk you through their patchwork of vineyards       

Walking you through top Chianti Classico wine estate Castello di Ama’s terroir – visiting La Casuccia, San Lorenzo, L’Apparita, Bellavista and Montebuoni

Exploring Castello di Ama’s vineyards

Piecing together the puzzle at Castello di Ama

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

“We take risks every day,” Vanessa Martin says to me. If you didn’t know we were standing in a winery, you might think Martin was a fighter pilot, a firewoman or perhaps a double agent. The two women standing in front of me, Martin and her colleague Chantal Uldry, aren’t necessarily the image of risk-takers – but through their hands have passed thousands of bottles of one of the world’s most precious wines: Ch. d’Yquem. It might not be life or death, but this liquid is so prized that it can seem it.  The lone Sauternes or Barsac estate to be declared a Premier Cru Supérieur in 1855, Ch. d’Yquem has a long history stretching back to the Middle Ages. The wine crafted from this property, at the highest point in Sauternes, has been lauded for centuries. It was savoured by the likes of Thomas Jefferson in the 1800s, while Jay-Z and Beyoncé visited late last year. The property and its wines are the stuff of legend, sought out by wine lovers and collectors around the world.  Production of this sweet nectar is painstaking – the vines cared for meticulously through the year, and the fruit only harvested if Mother Nature provides the right conditions for botrytis cinerea, aka “noble rot” to develop. If everything is in their favour, with just the right amount of moisture and heat at the right time, this fungus will work its way into the bunches of grapes, piercing the skin, concentrating the acid and sugar in the grapes, as well as lending its own distinctive spicy, marmalade aromas. Yquem’s team will pass through the vines up to six times, picking individual bunches and berries that are ready. Yields are miniscule, with approximately just one glass of wine made by each vine.  Once the fruit has made its way into the winery, been pressed, fermented and aged in barrel, with only the best selected for the final blend, the wine must be bottled and labelled – prepared for its début in the world. And this is where Martin and Uldry come in, part of the team who ensures that every bottle that leaves the premises is worthy of the Ch. d’Yquem name.   “We seek perfection,” Martin tells me. She has been working at the estate for two decades, having started out in the vineyards before moving into the winery, having worked with the property’s longtime winemaker Sandrine Garbay on the vinification as well as bottling and labelling, and now under the current Maître de Chai Toni El Khawand. Martin, like Uldry, is local – and wine is the region’s trade. Her parents worked amongst the vines, so she followed in their footsteps. But she didn’t love it, she found the yearly cycle repetitive – doing the same thing year in, year out – and asked to move. “This job, it changes every day,” she tells me, of her role in the winery. “I see different people every day; my work changes every day.” Watching the team work is remarkable. While much is mechanised today, everything is checked by a human member of the team. Martin takes a bottle off the line to check a label, whips out a tape measure and tuts before carefully peeling the back label off and reapplying it one millimetre further up the bottle. I watch one of their colleagues lining up a ruler against a double-magnum (all the large formats are still labelled by hand), re-applying a label five times to ensure it is just right. At another station, a woman delicately rolls each bottle in translucent tissue paper, wrapping each one with the same soft touch, before gently laying each one in a case.  Uldry was set to retire at the end of last year, after 23 years at Ch. d’Yquem. Like Martin, she’s seen much change at the estate, with its evolution under LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy), who have invested greatly since they purchased the property in 1999. She recalls how they used to wash the bottles by hand, and the machinery was much clunkier – whereas now it is a very slick operation, with standards higher than ever before.  There was a period when the château did a lot of reconditioning – old vintages would be sent back to them to be checked, authenticated, topped up and re-corked, as well as possibly re-labelled, before being sent back to a merchant or collector. As such, both Martin and Uldry have seen some extraordinarily old bottles, and – luckily for them – had the chance to taste some of them. Martin tasted 1921, while Uldry’s experience stretches back to the 1904 vintage – wines that they struggle to find words to describe. I recall Sandrine Garbay telling me about a bottle from the 19th century that was in a cellar in Spain, but was accidentally broken, and the sommelier team urgently called the château, cradling the bottle as they drove up to Bordeaux, desperate to save the precious wine.  “It's a source of pride that these bottles go all over the world,” Uldry says, when I ask about the ultimate destination of the wine that passes through their hands. They’re well aware of the value of the wine they’re handling, the impact of any breakage, and how crucial their role is. It is, after all, the final step for these bottles before they leave the estate, heading out into the world as ambassadors for the Yquem legacy. And many of the bottles, if not most, of the 2021 vintage (which has just been released) will outlive those that made it. As Martin says, their work isn’t about today – but tomorrow: “We’re leaving it for the generations that follow.” Explore all current listings of Ch. d’Yquem or read more about Bordeaux  

To craft world-class wine, every stage of production demands an obsessive attention to detail – and it’s just so at Ch. d’Yquem. In the latest instalment of our series taking you behind the scenes in Bordeaux, we talk to those who ensure every bottle of liquid gold is nothing less than perfect 

Exploring the art and craft of labelling each and every bottle of liquid gold from top Sauternes estate, Ch. d’Yquem – the world’s best sweet wine 

Gilding the future at Ch. d’Yquem

 Gilding the future: Ch. d’Yquem    

The grey horse stretches its neck out towards me, curling its lip towards my outreached palm, before nuzzling my pocket, in search perhaps of a potential snack. Its head is the size of my torso, its hooves the size of my head, with the entire beautiful beast weighing circa one ton, I’m told. You can sense the power of its immense muscled mass. Nearby, Adelaide Bonnefond, a petite 20-something is calling to the rest of her troupe of friendly giants. Balthazar – the aforementioned grey – is “a real lazybones”, Baudoin can be a bit fast and over-eager, while Olive is a horse of remarkable patience. “Each one has its own character,” Bonnefond says.  We’re in a field a stone’s throw from Ch. Pontet-Canet, where the property’s 10 horses spend their weekends and holidays. This Pauillac Fifth Growth is one of a handful of estates around the region, and indeed the world, that has returned to using horses in the vineyard – in lieu of modern machinery. Unusually, they have brought this operation in house – with their own stables and a five-strong team dedicated to grooming, handling and working the horses, led by Bonnefond.  “I have no idea,” says Mathieu Bessonet – the property’s Technical Director – when I ask how much it adds to their bills. “It’s not important for us… it’s a philosophy.” Herbicides were banned long ago at the estate, and they’ve been farming organically since 2004, certified organic and biodynamic from 2010 (the first Classed Growth to achieve the latter), with horses first introduced in 2008. They’re just one form of livestock you’ll find on the property. When I arrive, a drift of pigs is penned on the front lawn, tasked with munching on the invasive weed, common couch or quackgrass – but there are cattle and donkeys too. Collectively, they consume 60 tons of hay, three tons of barley and 600 kilos of lucerne (organic, of course) – much of which will end up back between the vines.  “A lot of money goes into taking good care of this place – what is in fact our tool for production,” says Bessonet. “The property is over 300 years old, so we’re just passing through. If I spend 20 years here, it’s a long time – but it’s only 3% of the history of Pontet-Canet. We have to take care of this place to be able to pass it on.” And working with horses is just one way in which they aim to do this, reducing soil compaction, allowing water, air and microbes to move through the soil. They can be more precise with their work and – most importantly – break fewer vines. A stunning number of vines are knocked out of place by tractors, something that is considered a natural consequence of modern farming – but not one that this estate is willing to accept.  “Wine, it’s made by the roots of the vines,” says Bessonet. As vines age, their roots creep further down into the soil and Pontet-Canet has some of the oldest vineyards in the Médoc, averaging 55 years in age. And it is the age of their vines, Bessonet feels, that “allows us to express the terroir”, as well as tempering climatic extremes (a growing concern with climate change). While it wasn’t a key reason for the shift back in 2008, using horses also allows them to reduce their carbon footprint – both by using fewer fossil fuels and increasing the carbon-holding capacity of their vineyards, something that is at the forefront of producers’ minds today.  The switch from tractor to horse has changed the way they farm more than can be measured in analytical results, however. “They are not little machines; working the vines with horses, we really become one with the vines,” says Bonnefond. The way you interact with an animal versus a machine is totally different, and she feels that as a result they are much more reactive, more aware of their work and able to stop at any moment. And, as Bessonet notes, even those that have worked at the property for 10 or 15 years can’t help but smile when the horses pass by. As any good manager knows, a happy team will pay endless dividends.  Back in 2008, they started with just two horses, but that number has grown to 10 today. They have a combination of breeds – Percheron and Comtois largely today, although they’ve had Bretons in the past. Percherons are larger, and they’ve been moving more towards Comtois, favouring the slightly smaller and even more gentle breed that hails from the Jura. All are draft horses, historically used in war and agriculture – weighing around double that of the daintier breeds you might see eventing or show-jumping.  Bessonet’s grandmother was, he tells me, almost insulted when he told her they were using horses – seeing it as a step backwards; but, as he and Bonnefond explain, the work is totally different to that of generations past. They might not be powered by electricity, but modern technology and know-how is being used to refine the way they work and the implements they use. Over the years, they’ve developed lots of tools themselves, and worked with a local business to craft others – a slow process that can only be tackled by those with a truly long-term vision.  They buy horses when they’re around three or four years old, so they’ve been broken in and have started their training but can be finished and finessed in-house (“They know the commands, but they’re still young so don’t necessarily listen,” explains Bessonet. “They’re teenagers!”). They’re unsurprisingly picky about the breeders they work with, and ensuring that the training received in their formative years is up to scratch. By the time the process is finished, the moment the plough touches the trunk of a vine, a horse will know to stop instantly, not even needing a human command, avoiding any significant damage. They have a mini faux vineyard with a handful of short rows lined with posts (but no vines) on the estate, a sort of school where they can train younger horses and use at the start of the season, spending half a day so the animals can get back to the pace of work.  Monday to Friday, the horses are at work, stabled next to the winery (with stalls crafted from old barrels). Each horse will work for half a day (sometimes longer if the tools they’re pulling are sufficiently light), before being walked back to the stables to allow for active recovery – evacuating lactic acid in their legs, something that is essential to maintain their health. With the time to groom, harness and unharness, wash down, muck out and feed the horses, each will work around three hours or so a day. Bonnefond’s team will take one horse out in the morning, before going back out with a different one in the afternoon. Alongside their work, the horses are lunged (moved in a circle around a handler, on a long lead rein) – working both on commands and their flexibility. “To change their minds too, seeing something other than the vines” explains Bonnefond.  There are around 10 passes per row a year, four or five to work the soils and around five others – spraying to protect pruning wounds (to prevent grapevine trunk diseases), making holes for planting new vines, spraying horsetail to control mildew pressure, as well as the 500 and 501 preparations (biodynamic sprays). Today, around half of the property’s 81 hectares is worked by horse – and the team is always working to do more, but Bessonet is unsure if 100% is a realistic goal. Copper sulphate – the main spray used in organic and biodynamic viticulture – is spread by tractor, not being something they’d want to expose the horses to (nor put gas masks on them, as was done during the Second World War).   The work is, inevitably, seasonal – and they’re turned out to pasture at weekends and during quiet periods, with lunging to keep them sharp. As soon as véraison takes place (the grapes changing in colour from green to red), “It’s holiday time for the horses,” says Bonnefond, laughing. At that point the grapes become too fragile and could be knocked by the horses, breaking the skins and damaging the fruit.   All being well, the horses work until they’re 18 or 20 years in age, and then Pontet-Canet finds them a home to live out their old age. Retirement can, in fact, be the hardest stage for these work-horses, explains Bonnefond. “They’re used to seeing everyone every day,” she says. One horse, Turbo, kept waiting at the gates, ready to go to work, for well over a month after he’d left the estate, struggling to adapt to his new, restful way of life.  Bonnefond had never worked in agriculture before arriving at Pontet-Canet, having been at an equestrian centre, and her team has similarly varied backgrounds (one used to train trotters and one worked with circus horses, for example). They’ve each got their favourites in Pontet-Canet’s herd, she confesses (hers is a handsome bay who is especially energetic), but they all work with each of the horses, to keep it interesting for the animals, and so that no horse gets too used to any particular handler.  It's certainly not light work – for Bonnefond and her team at least. Days are long and the work is physically demanding, but seeing Bonnefond in the field with the horses, her dainty frame at odds with the gigantic draft horses surrounding her, it’s clear that she loves it. Having a team like this in-house is something few estates can afford, but it’s reflective – as Bessonet says – of the philosophy at Pontet-Canet. Their special band of gravel terrace in the Médoc, shared with the likes of Mouton Rothschild, Lafite Rothschild and Cos d’Estournel – properties that represent the pinnacle of Cabernet Sauvignon around the world, deserves to be protected and preserved in every way possible.  Explore all current listings of Pontet-Canet or read more about Bordeaux  

Behind the winery at Ch. Pontet-Canet, you’ll find a row of stables. In the first of our series taking you behind the scenes in Bordeaux, we dive into how the beautiful draft horses that live here are key to the philosophy at the leading Pauillac estate

Horses are key to the philosophy at leading Bordeaux wine estate Pontet-Canet: we caught up with the team in Pauillac to find out more

Taking the reins at Ch. Pontet-Canet

When it comes to whisky, the conversation has long been dominated by maturation – on how long the liquid spends slumbering in which cask, on how big the cask is and what it held before, whether a Sherry butt, wine barrique, first-fill Bourbon barrel or the fashionable mizunara. Recently, there’s been an increased focus on the base product, with producers such as Waterford’s Mark Reynier championing single-site, single-barley, terroir-driven whiskies (and rums, with his Renegade project). But, somehow, there’s a tendency to skip on by the magic that happens in between: distillation.  While grain whisky is column distilled, malt whisky is almost exclusively distilled in copper pot stills – indeed, it’s a legal requisite for Scotch whisky. Crafting these copper beauties is an art – and one that depends on a handful of specialists. Kentucky has Vendome, Germany has Kothe and CARL, Italy has Frilli and Scotland has Forsyths. The equipment these coppersmiths produce lays the foundation the DNA of its new-make.  To the untrained eye, these onion-shaped pieces of kit look almost identical, but the size and shape is distinct to each distillery – defining its style. As distilleries expand and increase production, they don’t buy a bigger still – but commission exact replicas of their existing still(s), with every dent and dimple carefully recreated. Macallan, famously, replaced all its stills when building its new state-of-the-art distillery in 2018, asking Forsyths to create 36 stills that were identical to those it had previously used.  Although there have been attempts to use other metals, copper has long been favoured for distilling – originally for its pliability, making it easy to work and shape. But by the early 20th century, it was apparent that copper had other benefits – stripping the spirit of impurities. As the vapour rises through the still, it reacts with the copper, capturing sulphur, cyanides, carbonates and acids, meaning the liquid that is eventually collected is purer. Coppersmiths play on this purifying effect to create a range of stills, for the longer the vapour spends in contact with the copper, the lighter the spirit you’ll produce. Take Glenmorangie’s tall, 17-feet-high stills which produce a very light spirit, and compare them to the small, squat stills and typically heavy spirit of the Macallan. Of course it’s not quite as simple as that. As well as the ratio of copper to liquid, the speed of distillation, the shape of the still, the size of the neck, the level of reflux, the angle of the lyne arm and venting of stills all have an impact.  Rothes-based Forsyths has been hammering copper into shape for Scotland’s leading distillers for over 150 years. Richard Forsyth OBE (who has now passed management of the business to his son, Richard Jr) was the third generation of his family to run the coppersmiths. The frank, self-effacing Scot remembers working in his father’s workshop aged 15, “I knew this is what I wanted to do… I found it fascinating.” And after 55 years, his eye still twinkles when he talks about the arch of a still’s swan neck, the art of wielding a planishing hammer and the characters that make the industry so interesting.   He joined the family business in 1967 – at what happened to be a pivotal moment for the industry. During the Second World War, the whisky business ground to a halt – and with it the need for stills. In the 1950s and ’60s, however, the industry grew rapidly – too rapidly, it turned out. What was a golden era turned into a whisky lake, with many distilleries soon mothballed. Forsyths – for whom 99% of its business was servicing the whisky industry – had to find something else to pay the bills, and it was up to Richard to find that something else. They branched out first into paper, then stainless steel and – by the late 1990s – oil and gas. Although coppersmithing remained the foundation and heart of the business, these other disciplines became the main money-makers until the early 2010s, when whisky’s current boomtime set in. Today, Forsyths maintains over half of the pot stills in Scotland. For a wash still (distilleries that double-distil have wash and spirits stills, first distilling the wash into “low wines” and then distilling the “low wines” into new-make spirit), the head, neck and condenser wears out in eight to 10 years, while the pot itself may last 25. Add to that developing new stills for the thriving industry – as well as their expansion into rum, Bourbon and tequila – and the company’s not short of work.   Although there is clear resistance to change with an industry that is entrenched in tradition, things have shifted, slowly but surely, over the years. And there have been two significant changes over the last century that have transformed the Scotch whisky world: the firing of stills and the nature of condensers.  When shell-and-tube condensers were invented in the 1880s, as an alternative to old-fashioned worm tubs, it took time for producers to be persuaded. Although shell-and-tube condensers are significantly more efficient and take up much less space, they are completely different – with the copper surface area at least 20 times larger, something which has a key impact on the spirit. To this day some producers (15 to be exact – including Craigellachie, Mortlach, Glen Elgin and Springbank, the latter only for their wash still) retain their worm tubs, valuing the heavier, richer, more complex (and in some instances, even meaty, savoury) spirit character.   Traditionally stills were direct-fired – heated by flames fed by peat, coal or gas. “It’s dirty, messy, difficult to handle – and to control,” Forsyth tells me. A push for safety and efficiency saw producers switch to using steam in the 1970s. But some argue that this shift wasn’t for the better. Fire created a less consistent heat, with hot spots that would burn the wash and promote Maillard reactions (the same reaction that takes place when you brown meat, or during the bottle-ageing of Champagne or other traditional-method sparkling wine) – adding nutty, roasted notes that build complexity, or so proponents would argue. Glenfarclas is known for having briefly dallied with steam before returning to direct-firing, along with the likes of Macallan, Glenfiddich and Springbank.  As the whiskies of this pre-modernisation era – Scotch’s so-called “golden age” – become increasingly coveted, distilleries (both new and old) are looking to recreate these practices. Along with traditional floor maltings, producers like Glen Garioch (owned by Suntory) and Dunphail are investing in direct-firing. (Although, with worm tubs no longer produced, new distilleries have little choice regarding shell-and-tube condensers.)  However they are fired, given their custom nature, copper pot stills don’t come cheap. Much of the work continues to be done by hand, hammering to strengthen and finish the copper. Stills can range from 5,000 to 50,000 litres in capacity, but an average 15,000-litre still and its condenser will require between 1,800 and 2,000 manhours, and set you back around £250,000. And that price has only increased recently, thanks to rising energy and material costs – with a copper shortage proving challenging for Forsyths, a business that is the UK’s second-biggest buyer of the metal.  With the distinct nature of stills and their impact on spirit, plenty of new producers will ask for copies of a particular distillery’s stills – wishing to emanate their style of spirit. Forsyth tells me how one Japanese customer requested a pair each of Macallan, Glenlivet and Glenrothes stills. While of course there are many problems with this imitation game, there’s also no guarantee – as Forsyth tells me – that the same equipment will have the same results, especially when not run with the same wash, in the same way, by the same people. And, of course, a company like Forsyths isn’t going to give away Macallan’s proprietary designs, for example. As such, they’ll recreate something similar, but ensure it’s tweaked so no two distilleries have exactly the same design.   But how much impact do stills really have on the final spirit? Despite his half-century in the trade, Forsyth is quick to suggest, “I don’t think a lowly coppersmith can talk too much about that.” He’s clear that you need good equipment to make good spirit, but it’s one factor in amongst everything else – the barley, water and fermentation times, for example. And how a still is used is as important as its shape or size, with both the speed of distillation and the all-important cuts – dividing the heart from the foreshots and feints. Forsyth firmly believes that good wood is “the single biggest effect in a bottle eight, 10 or 12 years later”. There’s little use having a good base spirit if it’s ruined by a decade in bad oak – but good oak also can’t salvage bad spirit.  Forsyth has seen it all during his 55 years in the whisky business – and has been forced to be as malleable as the metal his family has worked for generations to survive the booms and busts. Despite the challenges, the coppersmith is as enchanted by his trade as when he first picked up a hammer in his father’s workshop. The industry will doubtless continue to ebb and flow, but with a spirit that takes decades to produce, the pace of change is reassuringly gentle. “It almost goes as slow as the running of the spirit,” Forsyth says whimsically. The still room remains the beating heart of distilleries – the basis of a producer’s fingerprint, all thanks to the careful hammering of the artful coppersmith.  Browse all current Scotch whisky listings or read more about spirits  

There’s something romantic about the bulbous sheen of a copper pot still. These behemoths glimmer with the promise of fine spirit – but it’s rare that we talk about what happens within. Sophie Thorpe sat down with Richard Forsyth OBE of Scotland’s leading coppersmiths, Forsyths, to find out more 

Cult coppersmiths Forsyths on the art of crafting copper pot stills for the biggest names in Scotch whisky – and how they define a distillery’s spirit style

How copper pot stills define whisky styles

Copper craft: the art of the still

Few wine estates have the history or pedigree of Ch. Lafite Rothschild. Grapes  have been grown on the estate’s hallowed ground in Pauillac since 1707 and the property has been in the same family (the Rothschilds) for over 150 years. It is the First Growth that became the most desired and collectable, loved for its elegance. Lafite, more than any other estate, had a huge influence in drawing Asian customers to Bordeaux – who, with their immense buying power, have been instrumental in transforming the region over the last 25 years. With such a reputation, the expectations of tasting benchmark Lafite vintages back to 1960 at the Rothschilds’ 19th-century Buckinghamshire estate, Waddesdon Manor, couldn’t be higher. The vintages on show were hand-selected by Domaines Barons de Rothschild’s International Director Jean-Sébastien Philippe who has an encyclopaedic knowledge of every vintage back to the 1920s. Philippe wanted to show how Lafite has an extraordinary capacity to age and an incredible ability to retain freshness, even 50 years or more into its maturity. The main event would pitch the more modern vintages of 2010 and 2005 against the 1990, 1982 and the elusive 1960 – all epic vintages for Lafite. Every wine was sourced directly from Lafite’s cellars and all were served from either magnum or double magnum. Philippe believes magnums are without question the ideal size for maturing wine and, by pouring from larger formats, it meant all the guests got to experience each vintage from the same bottle and therefore avoided any potential bottle variation across the table. Alongside these legendary vintages of Lafite, Philippe also wanted to showcase mature vintages of the neighbouring Ch. Duhart-Milon, also owned by Domaines Barons de Rothschild. With the same winemaking team at both Lafite and Duhart-Milon, it was fascinating to taste both the 1990 and 2005 Duhart-Milon against the same vintage from Lafite. The vines at Duhart abut Lafite’s own vineyards and are known for their quality, if not quite the same level as Lafite. It is a little unfair on Duhart-Milon, but tasting them side by side beautifully highlighted the extraordinary depth and sustain you find at Lafite, that the terroir of Duhart just cannot match. Duhart-Milon has been rewarded with plenty of investment from the Barons de Rothschild group in recent years, both in the vineyards and with a newly built winery. The 2022 is arguably their best vintage to date and the 2020 was also outstanding and surpassed any vintage prior. The estate since 2018 really has been on an impressive trajectory. For Philippe, Duhart is the epitome of Pauillac terroir – Cabernet-driven, with great linear structure and a distinct graphite minerality. While the 2005 and 1990 were not from the property’s heyday, they have matured beautifully. There was a touch of brettanomyces (a yeast that gives savoury, barnyard or even fabric plaster notes) on the 1990 which the guests were all in agreement was no bad thing, joking that everyone loves a touch of brett in mature Bordeaux. But the wines were fresh, vibrant, classic in style and impressively structured. Against the Lafite, they were no competition. Each vintage of Lafite fanned out so much more on the mid-palate, the dense, layered tannins are so plush and refined, while the freshness on the finish leaves the palate salivating. There was a debate at the table whether to start with older vintages and finish with younger ones or the other way round. It became clear with all the wines poured, why it’s so important to taste younger vintages first. In isolation, the 2010 was outstanding. The tannins were still firmly clenched but the depth and the Lafite elegance was all there. It was brooding but still beautiful. Philippe is convinced it is one of the greatest Lafites ever to be made and with maturity will compete with the 1959, 1953 and 1982. Tasting the 2005 alongside the 2010 shows how much more the latter wine has to give, with the 2005 that little bit less tightly clenched on the palate. The 2005s are famously tight and only now starting to unfurl, but while 2005 Lafite has fantastic depth and extraordinary length you just know it still has so much more to give. This wine has decades ahead of it, but several commented how much the 2005 has opened up in the last year. Philippe believes the 2005 still has at least another five years before this is going to even start to show its full potential. It is a wine whose peacock-tail finish started to get the adrenaline pumping, in perfect preparation for what was arguably the wine of the night – the 1990. Just dipping your nose in the 1990, you realise this is Lafite in top gear. Beautifully exuberant, a perfect blend of primary fruit, tertiary notes, cedar wood and earthy, mineral tones – you could smell it all night. The density found in the 2010 and 2005 was present too, but the tannins have relaxed and the wine fully unfurls on the palate bringing extraordinary depth. And it is here where the freshness hits you. This 33-year-old wine has such vibrancy, an energy that just lifts the wine and gives it a wonderful ethereal quality – not a description I would normally equate with Pauillac. The finesse is breath-taking. Having tasted the 1990 almost 15 years ago, it was fascinating to return to it and see it has only improved in that time. At 33 years old, this wine is at its peak. The 1982, the most eagerly awaited vintage of the line-up, could perhaps not live up to expectation despite its arresting nature. It is a terrific wine and, again, the freshness in what was a hot vintage is hard to believe. Philippe noted that the ’82 – despite its mythic status – is not a perfect wine, but is a testament to Lafite’s ability to excel in hot vintages. Philippe believes this is because the terroir at Lafite means the vines naturally close down in hot vintages, reducing sugar production in the grapes. It also gives a contrasting menthol freshness to the wine, which means it remains moderate in alcohol and yet does not taste phenolic or underripe. What is perhaps more extraordinary is that the ’82 was in fact a bumper vintage, with Lafite cropping at 80hl/ha. That is double the production at Lafite today (in a good year), which goes some way in realising the qualitative measures that have been taken at the property over this time. Despite the high production levels, the ’82 is stunning. This bottle didn’t quite have the vitality of the 1990, so it’s worth cracking on with any bottles you are lucky enough to have in your cellar. The final vintage was the elusive 1960. With a table of avid Lafite fans, no one present had tasted or knew much about the 1960. For Philippe it is arguably better than the legendary 1961. It features in a rare consecutive trio of exceptional vintages in the estate’s history. Philippe explained the phenomenon has only happened three times in the history of the estate: with 1959, 1960 and 1961; 1988, 1989 and 1990; and 2018, 2019 and 2020. In the oldest trio, Philippe actually thinks the ‘59 is perhaps the greatest vintage ever at Lafite, followed by the 1960 and then the 1961. My tasting notes for the 1960 started with “surprising freshness”, but perhaps I should have known better by this stage that Lafite’s ageability is not really in question. The wine was in exceptional condition and poured from magnum. It had fantastic structure, classic mature Cabernet linearity but with a plushness to the mid-palate that is typically Lafite, but still a surprise at such maturity. The wine was full of tertiary notes, dried fruits, savoury spice and cedar wood. It was so vibrant, so energetic, it seems that the 1960 is likely to see out its centenary in style. What a wine! To taste so many mature vintages of Ch. Lafite Rothschild is a rare and special treat – offering unforgettable insight into a Bordeaux legend. Now, where can I find that 1959…? Browse all Ch. Lafite Rothschld listings, find out more about our events or read more about Bordeaux

Ch. Lafite Rothschild is rightfully revered. The Pauillac First Growth crafts some of the most refined wines in Bordeaux. At a recent dinner, we had the chance to explore the fingerprint of this special estate and its extraordinary ability to age

Exploring Pauillac First Growth Chateau Lafite Rothschild through the lens of an extraordinary vertical at Waddesdon Manor

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