One hundred years ago, two men, inspired by the Scottish distilling tradition, produced the first Japanese whisky. In the years that have followed, the category’s fortunes – much like its founders’ relationship – have been turbulent.    The story begins in 1923 when pharmaceutical wholesaler turned Spanish wine importer Shinjiro Torii invested his family fortune in building the Yamazaki distillery, against their advice. Torii enlisted the help of wet-behind-the-ears chemist Masataka Taketsuru – who had spent time learning his craft in Scotland – to lead production on their first whisky, Suntory Shirofuda, which was released in 1929. The two men did not see eye to eye and parted ways following the dismal reception of Shirofuda. Taketsuru famously went on to found the other great Japanese whisky producer, Nikka, and their fierce rivalry persisted. This is one of the reasons Japanese distilleries, to this day, blend in-house rather than trade liquid. Despite this rocky start, the Japanese domestic whisky market looked bullish by the late 1930s – Yamazaki’s next whisky (Suntory Kakubin, released in 1937) was more warmly received and Taketsuru successfully re-entered the scene with his first whisky, Nikka Yoichi, in 1940.  Fast forward to the early 1980s and the category was in fine fettle – Suntory and Nikka had both released their first single malt expressions and there was plenty of cause for optimism. But this prosperity sadly did not last as a steep decline in consumption caused the Japanese whisky market to splutter and almost entirely stall, resulting in many distilleries, including Karuizawa, being forced to close their doors. Both Yamazaki and Nikka managed to stay afloat but their output was significantly reduced as the economy and category stagnated, marking a bleak 25-year chapter in Japanese whisky’s history.   When demand was reignited around the mid-to-late 2000s, it largely came from Europe. A perfect storm caused this spike in interest, including wider interest in Japan (think Bill Murray in Lost in Translation), the resurgence of the Highball cocktail (circa 2007) and Suntory’s Yamazaki Single Malt Sherry Cask 2013 being named the world’s best in 2014 – a first for the category. Around this time, the world was also introduced to Ichiro Akuto’s highly collectable Card Series and the lost distilling icon, Karuizawa. “The mad scramble for crumbs on the Japanese whisky scene is something nobody could have predicted,” acclaimed Japanese whisky writer and Ghost Series independent bottler Stefan Van Eycken tells me. “In the space of 10 years, the situation went from being able to buy a whole range of single-cask Japanese whiskies at a big electronics chain for peanuts to bottles not even reaching the shelves of liquor stores anymore. “Even I, who had been exploring the Japanese whisky scene in the ‘dark ages’, couldn’t have predicted that,” he says matter-of-factly. “If I could have, I would have rented a van, bought up all the bottlings that were available for purchase and I could have retired by now.” Yumi Yoshikawa joined the team at Chichibu in 2013 after a two-year stint in Scotland, first working in the Highlander Inn in Craigellachie – which will require little introduction for spirits journalists or enthusiasts – and at the Bruichladdich Distillery on Islay. “People didn’t know the value of aged [Japanese] whisky back then,” Yoshikawa tells me. “Or that Japan had a long whisky history,” she adds. Somebody who was instrumental in educating the world on these two points is Marcin Miller, a man whose fortitude dragged Karuizawa out of obscurity. The genteel and thoroughly entertaining former Whisky Magazine Editor turned drinks entrepreneur, recalls the landscape when he and business partner David Croll first tasted those fateful Karuizawa single casks in the early 2000s.  “The most common complaint [from whisky enthusiasts] at the time would seem to be that it's all very well for me tasting this stuff but we never get to see any where we are in Western Europe or Northern America,” he recalls. So the two men set about changing this by buying the remaining stock from the then-lost Karuizawa, bottling it, and making it available to the masses – with resounding success. It’s a gross misapprehension – held by many – that the duo meandered into a meeting room, tasted a parcel of Karuizawa, bought it on the spot, and bottled it shortly after, grinning like Cheshire cats as the coffers swelled. In truth, it was four and a half years of negotiation and countless sleepless nights during the process. When pallets of casks from the ghost distillery in a nascent whisky market were finally shipped to them, there was no guarantee the wider whisky world would be interested. “Whatever anyone says, it really was not easy…” He trails off, transported to that time, and all the challenges the pair transversed when bringing the mature Japanese whisky from a then-unknown producer to its now almost mythic status.  Miller talks of the “extraordinary, phenomenal effect” Karuizawa had on him. Croll, Miller and acclaimed drinks writer Dave Broom – who has since quite literally written the book on Japanese whisky – initially tasted 69 single-cask Karuizawa samples. “I would have bottled any of those casks,” Miller says, a fond smile warming his face. If it hadn’t been for Croll, who had lived in Japan for 30 years and owned a successful drinks business, Miller says they likely never would have got a foot in the door at Karuizawa – or secured the exclusive distribution rights of the much-lauded Chichibu and Hanyu. “I dare say Karuizawa would have been blended away into big plastic five-litre tubs of supermarket whisky,” Miller says reticently. When Van Eycken moved to Japan around the same time as Miller and Co were negotiating the Karuizawa deal, he hadn’t even realised whisky was being produced there. Japanese whisky consumption and production were at an all-time low and the general feeling, he says, was that the whisky made in Japan was “cheap and good for getting a buzz when going out, but that the good stuff – that you would savour – was Scotch, and Bourbon, to a lesser extent”. The intrepid Van Eycken was taken aback by the quality of the long-aged liquids he sampled on his travels and couldn’t understand why this sentiment wasn’t shared domestically or further afield. When Japanese whisky’s popularity did finally begin to soar, he was perfectly placed to fill the knowledge chasm with his widely acclaimed Nonjatta website and, later, his seminal work Whisky Rising – a fully updated second edition of which came out earlier this year.  “When I wrote the original edition in 2016, there were 14 active distilleries in Japan,” he says. “Fast forward to mid-2022 and there were 41 active distilleries (and even more in the progress of getting ready to distil),” Van Eycken tells me. All of the new distilleries, he says, are attempting to follow the so-called “craft model” with a single pair of pot stills and fairly limited production. The inspiration, of course, being Ichiro Akuto and his incredible accomplishments over the past 15 years at Chichibu. “But not everyone can be an Ichiro – though most new distillers are certainly hoping to be equally successful, if not more, than Ichiro,” he adds. Several of these new distilleries are located in and around the town of Karuizawa. “My personal feeling is that it doesn’t make a lot of sense to try and compete with the legend that is the (old) Karuizawa distillery,” Van Eycken is quick to add. “The liquid that was made there turned out to be something very special, and not only by design. I have had the dubious pleasure of tasting the new-make from the old Karuizawa distillery and it was absolutely foul.  “But during the maturation process, over 20, 30, 40 years, something magical happened. Some of this can be explained, but most of it is a hermetic mystery. We simply cannot know why decades later this harsh spirit transformed into a sublime whisky (in most cases). Even if you wanted to replicate this whisky – or aspects of it – you couldn’t.  “And hoping to match the quality of the (original) Karuizawa whisky… well, it’s good to aim high but it's a bit like naming your kid Roger Federer in the hope that he would turn into a tennis player of the same calibre. Why would you want to put that sort of pressure on the kid?”  Miller is humility personified and doesn’t want to come across as a wizened cynic or, in his words, “boring old fart”, but he’s not confident that all the country’s new distilleries are set for success. “I think people are now trying to replicate the business success but without the foundation of the liquid. They are selling Japanese whisky futures but who knows what the liquid is going to be like because it's not just A + B = C.” There is a cautionary tale in the annals of Scottish whisky distilling that Japanese producers might be wise to heed. Scotch has famously fallen victim to its own success – with booms and busts resulting in whisky lakes, or lochs, that have crippled the industry and forced mass distillery closures. In so faithfully replicating Scotch, there is a real danger Japan will find itself back in the 1980s when the likes of Karuizawa were shuttered. This time, however, there would be many more casualties.      “For the time being, the Japanese whisky scene continues to be marked by an unbridled optimism,” Van Eycken adds. “Distillers price their (invariably young) whiskies very high (compared with similarly established whisky markets around the world) and consumers snap up the bottles regardless of the (sometimes unjustifiably) high prices.”  This price war is one of the reasons Miller et al sold their remaining stock of Karuizawa, which had initially been priced fairly but wasn’t the case when they left the scene. The 1960 Karuizawa, for example, which yielded 41 bottles was released circa 2014 for £12,500. Within a decade, those same bottles were easily reaching $375,000. “That's not a bad return in 10 years,” Miller says caustically. “But that's not why we did it. If that had been our motivation, we'd have just held on to it and had 41 times that.” For those still in the industry – and disciples of it – there is a real push to protect the integrity of Japanese whisky and futureproof it. Yoshikawa picks up the point, outlining that the few have muddied the water for the many: “The rapid publicity and the reputation of Japanese whisky have led to its use of excessive PR strategies, even when this is not in line with the facts of the product.” For these reasons, she is an advocate of more stringent regulations, like the ones announced by the Japan Spirits and Liqueurs Makers Association in 2021 which aims to restrict certain practices – like labelling whisky that isn’t actually from Japan as Japanese whisky – akin to those enshrined and strongly policed in Scotland. But she, like many, thinks these could go further and believe it is important to continue scrutinising the practices of the small and larger players, ensuring there is greater transparency and less “skullduggery”, as Van Eycken puts it. As the ink dries on the past 100 years of Japanese whisky, no one knows what the next century might entail – but there's plenty of excitement. The landscape will undoubtedly change once more, and new giants and legends will likely emerge. For whisky enthusiasts, the challenge – as always – will be pre-empting the plot twists and securing bottles before they become little more than folklore.  Browse all Japanese whisky or read more editorial

As Japanese whisky enters its 100th year, producers are in a mad scramble to build the next legend. Holly Motion assesses whether previous fairytale endings can be repeated – and ponders if those individuals attempting to stand on the shoulders of giants might have a great fall

Exploring the epic story of Japanese whisky – from its genesis, to rebirth and future – as it celebrates its centenary.

100 years of Japanese whisky

A modern epic: 100 years of Japanese whisky

While the 100-point-scoring Pomerol Ch. L’Eglise-Clinet is the jewel in the Durantou crown, the family works with three other estates – Les Cruzelles, Saintayme and Montlandrie, in the Côtes de Castillon. The family bought the 28 hectares of this latter property in 2009. It perches at 86 metres’ altitude (a relatively lofty height for this part of the world), on the same limestone terrace as the heart of Saint-Emilion, which re-emerges here, next to the town of Castillon-la-Bataille. And it’s this limestone which defines the site – bringing incredible freshness to the wines it produces. The Castillon property has been totally replanted, and not just to vines, but with olives, oak trees and truffles, as well as vines, and space for beehives too. They’ve got a well and solar panels on the winery, meaning they are totally off-grid and self-sufficient – Noëmie Durantou Reilhac (who took over after her father Denis passed away) tells us how her father used to joke that if anything happened, Montlandrie is where they would go – their arc for the apocalypse. As it has been planted entirely by the Durantous, the vine spacing is very specific – 6,172 vines per hectare, a number based on the golden ratio, with vines planted 1.62 x 1m, as dreamt up by the late Denis. The vineyards are also still babies – with an average age of just 10 years, and the youngest fledgling vines planted this year, all with massal selections from Eglise-Clinet. This wild and spacious property is a total contrast to Eglise-Clinet, which has been in the Durantou family since the 18th century. Their Pomerol estate takes its name from the church that was once nearby, the cemetery of which has survived (with a new church built in the heart of the village, visible across the brow of the hill). The vineyards were leased for many years, and it was only under Denis Durantou that the family reclaimed them, in 1982. The oldest vineyard plots date back to 1905 – century-old field blends that even have a handful of Malbec vines scattered in amongst them. They have a mere 4.5 hectares, divided in parcels around the château, all on soils that are a combination of the region’s famous blue clay and ferruginous sandstone. Here in the heart of Pomerol, there’s no space for an olive grove or other crops – the tiny plots are far too precious for such folly. Tasting the wine from these two addresses in two utterly different vintages – 2013 and 2018 – shines a light on the sites, the style and the winemaking. The 2013 vintage is not fashionable among collectors – the rainy year led to immense disease pressure and made it challenging to ripen fruit. But, as Durantou Reilhac told us, what you do with the fruit you pick is much more important than the vintage itself. A cooler, off-vintage, the 2013s are rarely wines that earn high scores (or demand), yet these are the years that are most revealing, and often insider choices. By contrast, 2018 is remembered as a warm year – the first of the trilogy of excellent vintages (along with 2019 and ’20). The reality, however, was an incredibly wet start to the season, with rain throughout May and June, the weather only becoming hot and dry from mid-July – and saving the season. The resulting wines are blockbusters – bold, rich and ripe, and some that are perhaps overly so. The 2013s both showed a more herbaceous freshness, with redder fruit, slightly more austere tannins and lighter body – yet both Montlandrie and Eglise-Clinet were moreish. They are wines that I would consider the perfect “luncheon Claret”, with just a hint of savoury leather and sousbois creeping into their profile, both gasping for food. Both really benefited from additional air, relaxing their structure a little and making them more approachable. Unsurprisingly, the 2018s were different beasts. “The more I taste [the 2018 vintage], the more I love it,” Durantou Reilhac said. And with these wines, it was easy to see why. Especially for Montlandrie, whose vines were that much older by this vintage, the wine showed a vibrancy and dark perfume that Durantou Reilhac described beautifully as “baroque”. The 2018 Eglise-Clinet effortlessly stole the show at the tasting, a wine that is yet to reveal itself fully, but already offers so much. The wine is dense, compact, with an angularity to the frame around tightly packed, pure and seamless fruit, gradually revealing delicate florals. “You can feel the potential of full bloom,” Durantou Reilhac said, comparing the wine to a flower just starting to unfurl its petals.  For Durantou Reilhac, the key to producing wines like this is the harvest date. “If you look and you wait, you don’t control anything anymore,” she explains – and this was a particular danger in 2013, with some waiting too long. Ultimately, the goal is to craft wines that echo the perfect peach, plucked fresh from the tree – juicy and sweet, yet vibrant and mouth-watering – a pure expression of the very freshest fruit. To do that, they opt for gentle extraction, lower fermentation temperatures and shorter maceration times, as well as careful use of oak – with the aim “to enhance in a tactile way”, rather than add aromatics. For the 2018s, for example, one might assume they would have used a higher portion of new oak, with the concentrated fruit able to handle more – but in fact they used less. “The structure was already so powerful,” Durantou Reilhac tells us, and they didn’t want to “overbuild” the wine with more, “It would have crashed against the fruit.” New oak can help bring acidity and freshness, while one or two-year-old oak can “tire” the wine, she finds. The key, however, is to find the balance between the acidity and tannin: “A great wine makes you accept its acidity, thanks to its tannins,” she explains. It's unfair in many ways to put the much more modest Montlandrie alongside Eglise-Clinet, but the wines are so different, and Montlandrie already shows such potential – only reinforced by tasting recent vintages en primeur (with the 2022 a particular highlight of the vintage). Montlandrie offers a much more linear, direct and fresh style – much closer, unsurprisingly given its limestone, to Saint-Emilion than Pomerol. Eglise-Clinet, however, is plusher, denser, yet not at all over the top – managing to be both immensely concentrated and structured, yet elegant and contained. They are totally different sites, two totally different expressions of the Durantou style – but it’s perhaps the restraint, freshness and purity of fruit that connects the two. The thread of perfume and precision runs throughout, wines that – even in vintages as big and bold as 2018 – you simply want to drink. Browse all Eglise-Clinet and Montlandrie listings, or read more about Bordeaux

The Durantou family needs little introduction – creating some of the Right Bank’s finest wines, including Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet. Noëmie Durantou Reilhac – who is now at the helm of the family’s estates – dropped by our office to taste two contrasting vintages from two of the family’s properties

Tasting two contrasting vintages of Ch. l’Eglise-Clinet and Ch. Montlandrie with Noëmie Durantou Reilhac – the woman at the helm of the Durantou estates today

Tasting Montlandrie and Eglise-Clinet

Tasting with Noëmie Durantou Reilhac: Montlandrie and Eglise-Clinet

Barolo Chinato. Utter these words and you’re likely to receive one of two responses – “I absolutely adore it” or “Come again?” For the unacquainted, Barolo Chinato is an aromatised, fortified wine from the Piedmont region. It is made by infusing up to three dozen herbs and spices, the principal one being quinine, in grape neutral alcohol. The infusion is then used to fortify Barolo DOGC wine made from 100% Nebbiolo grapes. The blend is then matured in oak barrels for up to 12 months. Prior to bottling, a small amount of sugar is added. At around 16% alcohol, it is the same strength as most red vermouths. Its name comes from the Italian “China”, for quinine.   Two men are credited with the invention of Barolo Chinato: Giuseppe Cappellano and Giulio Cocchi. It is thought Italian pharmacist Cappellano created the recipe in Serralunga d’Alba in the 1800s and Cocchi created a new formula in 1891.  “I first tasted Barolo Chinato 10-15 years ago, when I was forging my path in the world of vintage spirits, and still remember being struck by the complexity of the drink,” purveyor of antique and unusual spirits, Edgar Harden, tells me. “The soft, viscous mouthfeel, the fruit flavour compounded with herbs and spices and a bittersweet finish lingered until the next sip,” the Old Spirits Company director adds.   Harden is an expert in rare and vintage cocktail ingredients – for want of a better word – often from defunct or discontinued producers. He says we are “blessed” to live in a time where there is such a range of antique vermouths, amari and Barolo Chinatos available. If you know where to look, he says, there are “hundreds of brands from every little town in Italy” to be found, and interest in these liquids is at an “all-time high”.   Barolo Chinato was originally meant to be consumed any time after bottling. But, because of the additional alcohol and small dose of sugar, it can be left for decades, even a century, if it has been stored correctly – “in its brown glass bottle in proper, dark, humid, subterranean environment,” Harden explains.   “Although Barolo Chinato is only slightly stronger than a Barolo wine, the introduction of a grape-spirit-based liqueur into the blend provides it with significant fuel for longevity,” he continues. “The inevitable oxidisation that occurs in a product on the lower part of the alcohol spectrum, the different rates of decay of the 30-plus herbs and spices and the recombination of those receding and advancing flavours at rates not originally intended provide for magical and harmonious combinations for the palate.”  He says, while traditionally it would be served neat, room temperature, in a small glass after a meal with dark chocolate, it is increasingly being used as a stand-in for many vermouths and Amari in classic and modern cocktail recipes.  Cocchi owner and Managing Director Roberto Bava says this idea to promote Barolo Chinato as the perfect companion to dark chocolate (“Like the French had with Pineau de Charentes,” he explains) saved the drink from extinction in the 1970s.   To many people’s surprise, the idea worked and the number of producers steadily increased. “It was a very simple detail but it was the lifesaver of the whole category,” Bava says, “I am very proud of this”.   Bava acknowledges Barolo Chinato is and will likely remain a “boutique” product, in part because of its price – “of course it is more expensive than amaro – you have to use a DOGC Barolo to make Barolo Chinato”, he says – but he believes its heritage and quality will continue to recruit fans.  With these credentials, and an ever-growing appreciation for rare and intriguing liquids, we think this lesser-known export from the prestigious wine region is going to struggle to remain a secret for much longer. Explore more Editorial

It is fair to say Barolo Chinato is a niche category. While some may know it well, others might have never heard of it. We explore the history of Barolo Chinato and why it’s firmly got a place in our hearts and drinks cabinet

A look at the Piedmont region’s lesser-known, fortified export

What is Barolo Chinato?

A year after we went into lockdown, it’s hard to believe we’re still here. At the start of 2020, we were blissfully ignorant about facemasks, hand sanitiser and Zoom – but in a year the world has changed. And the wine trade with it.  Our business revolves not just around the conviviality of sharing good wine with good food, and – most importantly – good company, but on tasting. And the way we’ve tasted – flitting from producer to producer, swanning about in crowded rooms, sipping, swilling and spitting into communal spittoons – is a Covid-19 nightmare.  Of course, we’ve adapted. Bemused couriers now ferry miniature bottles of the latest releases to our team – fascinated by the welcome smiles of those delighted to be receiving a drop of the latest fine wine releases. We’ve (mostly) mastered the mute/unmute for team tastings, managing to find a way to gather virtually, sampling and discussing the precious liquid that is the life-force of our industry. It’s even opened our doors a little wider – allowing our entire team to walk (digitally, at least) amongst the vines at Castello di Ama, for us to soar over the mountains at Promontory, and talk to winemakers far and wide with just the power of an internet connection.   But at this time of year, we’re once more looking ahead to Bordeaux en primeur – the busiest time for our team, when the world’s most prestigious addresses release the nascent new vintage unto the world. Last year’s campaign was unusual: the spring’s uncertainty meant it started in a haze of clamours for the whole thing to be postponed or cancelled. It was rapidly clear that the en primeur week – when the world’s wine trade gathers in Bordeaux to taste the new vintage – wouldn’t be possible, but that didn’t stop the show going on. Instead samples were sent around the world, tasted in kitchens, offices and garden sheds rather than the glamour of Bordeaux’s Classed Growth châteaux. A little later than normal, the campaign proceeded as normal.  Now we find ourselves in a worryingly similar situation, planning for a Covid-era campaign for the 2020s. It looks increasingly unlikely – with a third wave sweeping through France – that we’ll be able to make it to Bordeaux (although we’re trying our best), and if we do that it will be only with a much smaller team. In any other year, we’d have just returned from our first trip to get a feel for the vintage, preparing for a bigger team to go out for en primeur “proper”.  The challenge with en primeur, in particular, is the fragility of these young wines. Drawn from barrel, not yet fully formed, these are relatively unstable samples, not yet braced for a rollicking world-tour. Tasting at a property, with the winemaker, means that everyone tastes the same wine – the wine at its very best, not a bottle that, perhaps, suffered a little on the journey, or has had the fruit dulled by a dose of sulphur to sturdy it for its voyage. When you think about the pressure for these bottles to perform, it’s no surprise that the Rothschild stable opted last year to fly in samples via private jet for an exclusive no-expense-spared tasting at Waddesdon Manor.  For us, at least, the 2019s almost all showed superbly, with 99% living up to their potential – allaying our concerns regarding the delicacy of these Bordelais babes-in-arms.  Of course tasting in the UK also comes with its pros – many of which were well-documented in the wake of last year’s campaign. Rather than rushing from one property to another, it’s possible to linger a little longer over a wine. To revisit it. You can taste – and re-taste – in comparative flights, rather than depending on your tasting memory.   And – while it might not be nearly as fun as a whirlwind week of wining and dining – it’s that assessment which is key. We – and you – depend on us tasting the wines, forming our view of the vintage, to recommend the wines that deserve a place in your cellar.  This year, we are basing our plan on tastings in both Hong Kong and the UK, with samples shipped to our offices, tasted as soon as possible after their arrival. We’ll be tasting in shifts to ensure social distancing, Zooming in winemakers to dig into the conditions and decisions that shaped the wines. It might lack the sheen and sheer fun of traditional en primeur, but the show will go on.   Learn more about Bordeaux or read more Editorial 

Each spring, the wine trade’s eyes turn to Bordeaux for en primeur. But – once more – the campaign looks to be shackled by Covid-19. Here, we look ahead, considering how we’ll be tasting Bordeaux 2020 

Looking ahead to Bordeaux 2020 in another Covid-19 year – and how the wine trade will assess these en primeur wines with travel restrictions still in place

Exploring Bordeaux 2020 in another Covid year

Bordeaux 2020: encore, mon ami 

In Bordeaux, you can’t buy wine directly from producers. Instead wines are sold via a complex three-tier system, as they have been since the 17th century. This distribution network – La Place de Bordeaux – is how the wines find their way into markets around the world. So, how does it work? Château X will sell its wine to a négociant (essentially a wholesaler) via a middleman or broker, known as a courtier – originally introduced to avoid the aristocratic owners of châteaux dealing directly with the merchant classes. The négociant will then sell Château X’s wine to merchants around the world – like FINE+RARE – who then sell the wine on to consumers. While, over time, the aristocratic owners of châteaux have in many cases been replaced by banks and insurance companies, the system remains in place. La Place de Bordeaux is seen by many as antiquated and cumbersome, bloated with middlemen taking their cut. However, it’s hard to ignore that more often than not the system works, providing an established and efficient route to the global market – meaning a château can sell its entire vintage in a matter of hours. Initially, the system was a way to reduce risk, and manage supply and demand as effectively as possible. The courtiers’ job is to understand the current market conditions, liaising with the 400 or so négociants to calculate demand and advise châteaux on appropriate pricing for their wine. While the courtiers don’t always get it right, this market insight and propensity to adapt pricing to wider circumstances provides a flexibility rarely seen elsewhere in the wine market. Take the 2019 en primeur releases, for example: many top châteaux reduced their prices by as much as 30% in response to global economic uncertainty, despite the exceptional quality of the vintage. The négociants take on the burden of distributing the wine – meaning châteaux don’t need their own network of salespeople around the world. This is particularly useful for wines where demand outweighs supply; the négociants are responsible for distributing the limited volumes as fairly and as globally as possible. In addition, the system helps with tracing provenance: having a set number of distributors means the wines can be more easily tracked – by both producers and consumers. These different elements make La Place a fast, low-cost and efficient way of distributing wines – and a reason that the system is no longer limited to Bordeaux’s top wines. While most (but not all) Bordeaux will be sold en primeur in the spring, September now sees a second flurry of activity on the Place – with new vintages of top wines from Napa, Chile, Argentina and Italy’s Super Tuscans. The first non-Bordeaux wines to make their way onto La Place were Almaviva and Opus One – Bordeaux-style blends made in partnership with First Growth Ch. Mouton Rothschild. Despite their prestigious pedigree, at first négociants struggled to sell the wines alongside the depth and breadth offered by Bordeaux alone. Today, however, it’s a different story: a shift toward more elegant wine styles in the New World, combined with critics’ praise, has created a global audience hungry for the latest releases from California, Chile and Argentina. While La Place might seem old-fashioned, this historic distribution system is remarkably efficient, giving fine wine producers access to millions of consumers around the world. Read more Editorial

Formed of layers of négociants, courtiers and châteaux, La Place de Bordeaux is not a place at all, but the complex distribution system for the region’s wines – and increasingly the top wines from around the world. Here’s everything you need to know about how it works.

This distribution network – La Place de Bordeaux – is how the wines find their way into markets around the world. So, how does it work?

La Place de Bordeaux explained

La Place de Bordeaux explained: what it is and how it works

It’s only April and he’s already traversed the globe hosting tastings, completed a harvest in Australia and now Egon Müller IV is finally home. His 18-year-old daughter is also back home in Wiltingen, unexpectedly: her A-level exams have been cancelled due to the Coronavirus pandemic and she has returned from her studies in London. It's uncertain times but the proximity to the border with France and Luxembourg has been a source of uncertainty for centuries. In fact, if it were not for the French army invading the region soon after the Revolution and taking the Left Bank of the Rhine river, the family estate would not have existed.  His great-great-great grandfather, Jean-Jacques Koch was a monk at a local monastery before the French came through in 1794, seized the church's property and auctioned it off. As a result, Koch bought his piece of the Scharzhof estate, met a woman, had seven children, whom he had to divide his land between thanks to Napoleon's law of inheritance, and the scene was set.  Whether the Scharzhofberg (Scharzhof hill) was considered as special as it is now when Koch made the acquisition is pure speculation. It was –and remains –an unusual site, as it has long been dedicated to vines whereas similar-sized properties were home to other crops and woods. Long ago, it was clear that the wines from the steep slate-rich soils of this high spot in the Saar were out of the ordinary, winning acclaim at international fairs including the 1900 Paris Exhibition and as far afield as St. Louis, USA.  However, the 20th century brought its troubles to the Müller's tranquil spot a few miles from the confluence of the Saar and Mosel rivers. Müller's father, Egon III, was born in 1919 and drafted into the German army for the duration of World War II, fighting as close to home as France and as far afield as Russia. His wife and her sister did their best to take care of the vineyard while he was away but when he returned for the 1945 vintage, they were able to make only 1200 litres of wine. "The weather was fantastic but there had been years of neglect: there were no workers, you couldn't buy sprays nor fertiliser,” says Müller IV.  Despite the challenges they faced, the family business was already 150 years into its existence and while all businesses face global uncertainty today, Müller says, "In terms of family businesses that have been going for many generations, we have a better chance than if you look at what's in your bank account.  In agriculture, you have to think about the long term."It's just as well the family has been so stoic in the face of adversity or the world would not have the thrill of its sweet, pure Riesling, whose sweetest wines leave even the most exacting of wine critics weak at the knees.  Neal Martin of Vinous described an unexpected encounter with the 1975 Scharzhofberger TBA: “Though the bottle is still on the other side of the room on its way to the dining table, I instantly register that it is a) exceedingly rare and extraordinarily expensive and b) already open for serving. The thought that goes through my head is: “Is that really what I think it is?” I was. The result. “It might well be the greatest Riesling that I have ever consumed.” Focusing on making tiny yields of botrytised wine on a steep slope was far removed from the main route Germany took in the last decades of the 20th century. The 1971 wine law classified quality on the basis of the sugar content of grapes rather than origin–and quality. "That law was probably the origin of German wine's misery," says Müller.  "The idea of terroir was disregarded...but now people are trying to bring back the [concept of] terroir -that's what the VDP classification is all about." A new generation of drinkers with no knowledge of Germany's wine law cock ups nor the 1985 glycol scandal gives Müller hope for the country's future and his one and only grape: Riesling. "When I took over the winery nobody wanted to drink it. It's becoming much better. That said, I still think Riesling is not like Chardonnay-something that everybody wants to drink – I don't see people going to a restaurant and saying 'I want a bottle of Riesling.'" The world's wine drinkers are hardly clamouring to fill their cellars with sweet wines either but this is a niche that Müller has nailed."The style of wine we make here is really unique and it’s quite impossible to make it anywhere else. When you have something so unique, you have to stick with it." However, Müller's wine has something over and beyond his fellow sweet wine producers.  "There are differences –there is nobody who is running the yields as low as we do. It’s not only because of old vines...you have a lot of small things that add up. The proof is in the glass: from QbA and Kabinett all the way up the fruit-sweetness scale Trockenbeerenauslese, the slatey Scharzhofberg offers a fine framework to carry any sweetness while the heavier soils of the four-hectare Braune Kupp vineyard, just north of the village, of Wiltingen makes a weightier, succulent style of Rieslings. "Inevitably there are better vintages than others but what makes a perfect season for him? “I have two kinds of perfect years: one is a classic no botrytis year like 2015 when everything is ripe and that’s very classic. But I also have the years when there’s botrytis like 2005 and 2010 and I’d say that the greatest wines come from those years.  When I was young there was always discussions between the proponents of 1971 vs 1972: ‘71 is non-botrytis, straight vintage, ‘72 is full-on botrytis. Ultimately it’s a personal preference.”When it comes to the more recent 2017 and 2018 vintages they too have their distinct personalities with the frost-bitten 2017 firm and austere; the warmth of the 2018 season shows through in its charm. The burning questions is how to get your hands on these gold-dust-like sweet wines? It’s an unusual route to market: a wine auction takes place in the city of Trier on the third weekend of September and individuals must register with an approved broker to bid for an allocation from the offered cask.  There are tiny quantities of his TBA available, sometimes the production volume is double digits of litres. However, Müller notes that global warming is increasing the quantity of botrytised wine: “We have had more success with these wines so we are producing slightly larger quantities and we are increasingly able to sell through ‘regular’ channels. ”The rarity value and the deserved aura that surrounds his wines means there will always be strong demand in the secondary market, which inevitably leads to articles about Müller’s Scharzhofberg TBA being the world’s most expensive Riesling. Greatness has never come cheap." Browse more Editorial 

Hailed as one of the world's finest Riesling producers with prices to match, the Müller family has never been afraid of a challenge from their first days as a vineyard owner under French occupation, through two World Wars and a wine system that awarded quantity over quality.

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