Featured Producer
Henri Perrusset
A few decades ago, in a small, local vigneron hangout in the Beaujolais, Kermit and Henri Perrusset met rather serendipitously. There weren’t enough tables in the restaurant and the hostess seated Kermit with Henri, who was just finishing up his meal. Their conversation blossomed, and Henri invited Kermit to visit and taste his first vintage. We have been buying these delicious, distinctive Chardonnays ever since. For decades, the Mâconnais has been dominated by the banal bottlings of cooperative cellars; not the sort of quality that leads novices to explore the wines of the region. But at the same time, Henri Perrusset has been working his vineyards by hand, reducing his yields to improve grape quality, all while offering us very reasonable prices.Henri Perrusset’s vineyards and home are located in the small town of Farges-les-Mâcon, on the northernmost spur of the limestone subsoil that characterizes the appellation of Mâcon. Farges is not far away from the village named (believe it or not) Chardonnay. The limestone in Farges is more marly than the compact limestone farther south in Pouilly-Fuissé. It is hard and intensely white, but breaks apart into small pieces and it is loaded with quartz and marine fossils as well. This type of soil is easier to work despite all the stones, provides great drainage for the vines, and gives the wines their grainy minerality. Our Mâcon-Farges bottling comes uniquely from a parcel of old vines, while the Mâcon-Villages is a custom blend of all his other holdings around Farges. These are Chardonnays with the ripeness and intensity level of a Pouilly-Fuissé or even a Saint-Aubin, with the particular goût de terroir of Henri’s corner of Mâcon.
Clos Saint-Joseph
The picturesque stone village of Villars-sur-Var lies a thirty-minute drive north of Nice, in the heart of the Provençal pre-Alps. Perched high above the banks of the Var river and surrounded by massive limestone façades, the town is a small oasis of vineyards amid dense woodland and craggy bluffs: Villars has a long tradition of winemaking, and many residents still vinify a barrel or two every year for home consumption.Roch Sassi of Clos Saint-Joseph (named for his great-grandfather) is the only grower to bottle any wine eked from these incredibly rocky slopes. His wines fall under the Côtes de Provence appellation, even though the much cooler terroir here has little relation to the rest of the AOC. Villars in fact represents an isolated enclave of Côtes de Provence that enjoys a unique microclimate, the dry heat buffered by cold air currents from the surrounding mountains. These conditions allow for full ripening at remarkably low alcohol levels, maintaining lively fruit and bright acidity in the wines.
A proud ambassador of Villars’ winemaking history, Roch farms his five hectares organically and has also introduced biodynamic practices to the vineyard, such as the use of herbal preparations to boost the vines’ immunity and ward off disease. Rigor in the vineyard means top-quality raw material and less need for intervention in the cellar: “I don’t like working in the cave,” Roch jokes. Accordingly, his wines are fermented naturally, he does not block malolactic fermentations, and he bottles with no fining and minimal filtration.
In all three colors, it is the freshness and stoniness of this remote terroir that have the last word. The cellar-worthy reds express density with elegance and restraint; Syrah in particular shows a special affinity to the extreme environment of this less-traveled side of Provence. Roch’s blanc combines a textural fullness with the precision and salinity all-too-often lacking in southern whites, while the rosé of Clos Saint-Joseph is what every Provençal rosé aspires to be: delicate, ethereal, and mouth-watering, with no lack of flesh.
Thanks to this rare combination of an exceptional terroir with meticulous, tasteful winemaking, it was love at first sniff with the wines of Clos Saint-Joseph.
Punta Crena
The tiny village of Varigotti sits on the Mediterranean, just a few rows of houses and restaurants on a pristine beach, with its back against steep hills. Climb up into the hills and you will discover neatly terraced vineyards on the slopes and in hidden clearings further up on the peaks. The Ruffino family has been tending these vineyards for over 500 years, hardly changing a thing as they pass their knowledge and wisdom from one generation to the next. Today the estate is run by four siblings: Tommaso, the eldest, is the winemaker; Paolo is the salesman; Anna handles logistics; and Nicola helps out in the vineyards and winery. Their mother, Libera, was a strong businesswoman who revolutionized sales by dealing directly with clients rather than working with the merchants who controlled the market at the time; but today she stays in the background, happily cooking for the constant flow of guests and tending the home-grown vegetable stand in the courtyard as her numerous grandchildren scamper around her. These unpretentious people are firmly rooted in Varigotti, and the wines they craft are infused with local tradition and character.Ask Paolo if the family follows organic methods in the vineyards and he’ll laugh. We’re not “organic,” he says as if you had asked about some crazy new technology. We just do everything the same way our ancestors have for hundreds of years. They even build their stone terraces by hand, using the method established here three thousand years ago. The vineyards of Punta Crena (which is named for a large promontory jutting into the sea at the edge of the village) are all within 1200 meters of the water and enjoy sea breezes that help keep the grapes healthy and happy. The Ruffinos are proud to work almost exclusively with local varietals, but they don’t have much company. Mataòssu, which once reigned supreme in this zone, was gradually ripped out because it has such a difficult vegetative balance; Crovino gives such low yields that no one else will grow it. As a result, several of Punta Crena’s wines are one of a kind: the Mataòssu and Cruvin are entirely unique (two other producers make wines labeled Mataòssu, but in fact their vines are the related Lumassina), and the Barbarossa is the only one produced in Italy (a local grape of Emilia-Romagna has the same name but is unrelated). They believe that their only job after the harvest is simply to avoid ruining their lovely fruit as it turns to wine. These are light, fun wines with no pretension. Every bottling from this estate marries beautifully with the local cuisine of fresh vegetables, fritto misto, and anchovies prepared every way imaginable, and we at KLWM are constantly finding more pairings where they taste just as good.
Giulia Negri
Taking over a well-established Barolo estate at the tender age of 24 might cause one to flinch at the prospect, but for Giulia Negri, the latest in a 150-year line of grape growers in the Langhe commune of La Morra, the challenge proved irresistible. After completing studies in management and biology, and fresh off an inspiring trip to Burgundy where she truly began forming her palate, Giulia returned to La Morra motivated to learn all the secrets to making fine wine in her home region. She started small, releasing microcuvées under her own label, before finally taking over the totality of vineyard management and production in 2014.In the heart of the Serradenari cru of La Morra—the highest point in the Barolo zone, with vineyards culminating at 536 meters elevation—Giulia passionately pursues her goal of crafting Barolo with a Burgundian sensibility. In fact, she even inherited small parcels of Chardonnay and Pinot Nero that her father planted on the estate’s cooler, north-facing sites, allowing her to pay tribute to the great wines of the Côte d’Or through the lens of Piemontese soil.
But Nebbiolo reigns in these parts, and Serradenari yields a Barolo of regal pedigree. The altitude, coupled with a complex mosaic of soils unique to this part of the Langhe, set the stage for Giulia to create Barolos marrying delicate floral aromas and elegant fruit with a deep mineral structure, with tannins both fine-grained and tightly-knit—seductive wines that charm in their youth but have the structure for serious bottle aging.
Upon Giulia’s arrival at the helm of the estate, the modest cellar was filled with small Burgundian barriques. After tasting all around the Langhe and learning from some of Barolo’s most distinguished growers, it quickly became clear that large casks were key to preserving Nebbiolo’s tension and mystical energy. With the goal of maximizing an honest expression of terroir, she has gradually replaced the smaller barrels with botti grandi. Her artisanal approach and espousal of traditional production methods extends to sustainable viticulture, eschewal of commercial yeasts and other additives, harvesting by hand, and long but gentle macerations in the cellar.
Barologirl, as she has become known, may still be the new kid on the block in La Morra, but tasting her wines reveals a fine touch and devout respect for tradition that already places her wines among the region’s classics. We are happy to urge you to include a bottle of Giulia’s lovely Barolo in your next order and see why we added her domaine to our portfolio.
Domaine de l’Alliance
In Sauternes, an appellation that is more well-known for wine châteaux than for the talented people that work the soil and make the wine, Valérie and Daniel Alibrand are braving it on their own without the safety net enjoyed by their more established neighbors. KLWM has a tradition of buying direct from the vigneron, which is not easy in Bordeaux, where brokers play a dominant role in the dealings and add a percentage to the cost of each bottle. Finding just the right fit in Bordeaux may be rare for us with standards like these, but when it happens, it is a rewarding feeling. It was love-at-first-sip when Kermit tasted the wines of Domaine de l’Alliance, and we are proud to welcome them to our portfolio.The Alibrands are relatively new to wine, having started Domaine de l’Alliance in 2005, upon the purchase of the vines from Valérie’s side of the family. Although Daniel had been an Atlantic fisherman by trade, the two jumped at the opportunity to start their new vocation in Valérie’s hometown. Such a leap of faith has not been without its struggles, however the Alibrands have been attracting quite a bit of attention for such newcomers. They farm seven hectares of vineyards in the village of Fargues, known for the eponymous and prestigious wine château to which their land runs adjacent. They are fortunate to have old vines, which impart fabulous complexity to the wine, although it means lower yields than are the norm for Sauternes. (The yields for Sauternes average around 25 hectolitres per hectare, however the Alibrands’ vines only get 10-13, like Yquem!) They started farming in lutte raisonnée but have recently begun the three-year conversion process to have their vineyards certified as organic. Alliance refers to the marriage between man and nature, a fitting homage to this decision, and the salamander on the label pays tribute to the many they regularly find in their vineyard.
Albert Boxler
The small family domaine in France that works traditionally using techniques and savoir faire passed down across multiple generations is under serious threat today. Consolidation, technology, regulation, foreign investment, globalization, and many other factors (all in the name of progress), threaten the great agricultural tradition of winegrowing in France, arguably the world’s greatest winegrowing culture. Few domaines in France embody this way of life more ably and proudly than Domaine Albert Boxler in Niedermorschwihr. Jean Boxler, many generations removed from his ancestor of the same name that moved here from Switzerland in 1673, currently rules the roost at this humble yet incredibly exciting domaine. Intense and serious about his land, his craft, and his wine, Jean is the genius behind what are certainly some of the finest white wines in Alsace (and the world).World War II brought Jean’s grandfather Albert back to Niedermorschwihr from Montana, where he was busy enjoying the natural gifts of big sky country. After the war Albert returned to the family domaine in time to harvest the 1946 crop. He became the first generation to bottle the family’s production himself and commercialize it under a family label. The wine still wears a label drawn by his cousin in 1946. Albert’s son Jean-Marc continued the tradition for several decades until passing the baton to his son Jean in 1996.
The family’s holdings are centered around the ancient village of Niedermorschwihr in the Haut-Rhin, dominated by the imposing granite hillside grand cru, Sommerberg. Jean vinifies micro-parcels within this cru separately, de-classifying some into his Réserve wines and producing multiple bottlings of Sommerberg from the different lieux-dits depending on the vintage. Sommerberg gives racy, intensely structured, very long-lived wines. Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Pinot Blanc are the specialties of the domaine, Jean also produces one of Alsace’s best Crémants (and Edelzwickers), an incredible Gewurztraminer grown in limestone, and some of the most hauntingly pure Vendanges Tardives and SGNs in all of Alsace. If that weren’t enough, the Boxlers also own land in the powerful grand cru Brand, the ultimate counterpart to their holdings in Sommerberg.
The Sommerberg hillside terminates in Jean’s driveway, making it easy to basically live in the vineyards, ensuring exceptionally healthy fruit year after year. After harvest, the wines are vinified and aged in old foudres in a small cellar underneath the family home until bottling. Not much has changed over the centuries; not much has needed to. Tasting through the entire range of Boxler’s wines is ample proof of the fact that Alsace, along with Burgundy, is the source of the world’s most complex, exciting white wines, and will probably always be.
Bernard Baudry
Bernard Baudry is unquestionably one of Chinon’s most outstanding producers. Not only does he have the talent to make delicious and consistent wines, vintage to vintage, but he is also fortunate enough to have vineyard land that showcases many of the varied soil types of the appellation. After completing his studies at the viticultural school in Beaune, Bernard returned to the Loire Valley to consult in Tours. By 1975, he had purchased his first two hectares of land in Cravant-les-Coteaux, a village from which almost half of the production of A.O.C. Chinon is sourced. Over the years, the domaine has grown to twenty-five hectares. Bernard’s son, Matthieu, joined the family domaine in 2000 after studying winemaking in the Mâconnais and Bordeaux, with internships both in Tasmania and California!The Baudrys work vineyards composed of gravel, sand, limestone, silica, and clay. The variations of terroir and vinification methods make each of their cuvées unique and distinct. Bernard and Matthieu focus the lion’s share of their production on Chinon Rouge, five fine cuvées of Cabernet Franc, all aged in old and new barrels in their incredible cellars chiseled out of tuffeau behind the winery. They make a surprising Chinon Blanc, a rarity to find let alone to import, as well as a stunning Chinon Rosé. The Baudrys are staunch traditionalists, and you would have a hard time finding a Chinon more classic than theirs.
André Perret
When André Perret was growing up in Chavanay, in the northern Rhône Valley, most of the land there was planted to orchards, including the bulk of the family’s own small estate. Their roots were in Burgundy, though, where André’s forefathers owned and worked vineyards in Chassagne-Montrachet until World War II forced them to relocate. As a young man André studied biology and took a job as a cancer researcher, but he felt cooped up in the laboratory and dreamt of a life outdoors. In 1982, after completing a degree in viticulture and enology, he returned to his hometown and started out with a few small rows of vines that had belonged to his uncle. At that time there were just two other vignerons in Chavanay and the region was in decline, but he believed profoundly in the value of the local terroirs and worked hard to valorize the area, becoming president of the department’s association of young agriculturalists and establishing programs that would encourage people to settle down and plant vineyards there. He also worked tirelessly to develop his own estate, expanding production by renting vineyards and replanting the family lands to vines. Today he is proud to be surrounded by dynamic, passionate young vignerons and to see that most of his neighbors’ children are eager to take over the family estates as they grow up.Perret’s approach to winegrowing is classic: respect each individual terroir—he produces several single-vineyard wines—and work the soil to avoid the need for chemical treatments. His goal is to make fresh, structured wines, in “a sort of Burgundian style” as he says, but without too much wood; wines that aren’t too worked over and will age well. His Condrieu bottlings are reference points for the entire appellation. In 1995 André built a new cellar, but he has never expanded beyond the very best terroirs and keeps the estate small so he can maintain his standards of manual labor in the vineyards and individual attention to all of his wines.
Baldin
To say that the DOC of Bramaterra is in the northern area of Piedmont is an understatement. Bramaterra is about the same distance from Zermatt, Switzerland to the north as Barolo is from the Ligurian coast to the south, benefiting from more of a mountainous than a maritime climactic influence. It’s another world, another terroir, and another culture from what we now consider to be the traditional Nebbiolo country of Barolo and Barbaresco. One highlight of these differences is that in these northern parts, Nebbiolo is grown, but it’s referred to by its local name, Spanna.Enter Matteo Baldin, who in 1997 began making wine in a minuscule cellar he inherited from his maternal grandparents. Previous to the launch of his own estate, Matteo worked in nearby Gattinara. His calling, though, was always to return to his home village of Lozzolo to make Bramaterra DOC.
Matteo is a fierce advocate of the Bramaterra style. Unlike the many other Nebbiolo focused appellations of Piedmont, Bramaterra can have up to 20% Croatina. Though there is a trend away from using larger amounts of Croatina in his village, he believes that to make an elegant and typical Bramaterra, you need to stick with the traditional blend and work hard to achieve optimal maturity of each grape.
His plantings are modest with just 1.5 total hectares planted to vine, on slopes rich in clay and volcanic porphyry. The vines are densely planted, Guyot trained, and receive organic treatments. Matteo’s goal is to obtain high quality grapes with low yields.
Matteo is a focused and driven individual, carving out a living in a way that few choose to these days. His approach to wine and life are deeply intertwined:
“The terroir must emerge and balanced wines better speak my language of simplicity. Speaking through the wine, the aromas, and the flavor of my land, all makes me happy, satisfied. Balance, simplicity, terroir, instinct. These are my cardinal points. This is my little cellar.”
Château Graville-Lacoste
Hervé Dubourdieu’s easy charm and modest disposition are complemented by his focus and ferocious perfectionism. He prefers to keep to himself, spending most of his time with his family in his modest, tasteful home, surrounded by his vineyards in the Sauternes and Graves appellations. Roûmieu-Lacoste, situated in Haut Barsac, originates from his mother’s side of the family, dating back to 1890. He also owns Château Graville-Lacoste and Château Ducasse, where he grows grapes for his Graves Blanc and Bordeaux Blanc, respectively. In the words of Dixon Brooke, “Hervé is as meticulous a person as I have encountered in France’s vineyards and wineries. Everything is kept in absolutely perfect condition, and the wines showcase the results of this care – impeccable.” Hervé is incredibly hard on himself. Despite the pedigree and complexity of the terroir and the quality of the wines, he has never been quite satisfied to rest on his laurels, always striving to outdo himself. This is most evident in his grape-sorting process for the Sauternes. Since botrytis is paramount to making great Sauternes, he employs the best harvesters available, paying them double the average wage to discern between the “noble rot,” necessary to concentrate the sugars for Sauternes, and deleterious rot. Hervé is so fastidious that he will get rid of a whole basket of fruit if a single grape with the harmful rot makes it in with healthy ones to be absolutely sure to avoid even the slightest contamination. Another thing that we love about Hervé is that he would rather entrust the selling to us than be away from his vines, so he lets us buy the lion’s share of his production. This is an important factor in keeping wine of this quality at so low a price.Roûmieu-Lacoste is in the climat of Haut Barsac, an area famous (and in fact more renowned historically than the Sauternes appellation as a whole) for its particularly robust, powerfully styled moelleux with pronounced acidity. The vineyards are just across the road from First Growth Château Climens on a similar soil: calcareous clay on fissured rock, peppered with red iron, white limestone, and grey flint gravel. The Graville-Lacoste property produces a Graves Blanc, known primarily for its stony soil composition and fresh minerality. This wine and the Bordeaux Blanc of Château Ducasse are very different from others from their appellations: Hervé blends a high proportion of Sémillon (60%) and a splash of Muscadelle (5%) with Sauvignon Blanc (35%), creating a rich, full, aromatic mid-palate to complement the clean finish. These are the perfect go-to whites that pair well with anything from fish to poultry, picnic fare to Indian curries.
From the Blog
Richard Olney’s Final Book, Reflexions
by Jim Harrison, March 2000
Richard and Kermit © Gail Skoff
I was thoroughly swept away by Richard Olney’s Reflexions, which made me all the more saddened by his death this past July. There is ample evidence in Reflexions that no one on the planet has sat at better tables, most especially his own, or drank consistently better wines than Richard Olney. The evidence here and in his many other books, all of which I revere for their lucidity and range as books about food and wine that suggest, but not obtrusively, that there are standards that must be kept, no matter how implausibly high these standards might be. And this is all against a backdrop, a diorama, of a life lived with devotion and honor, of life lived as art itself.
If I have ever been to a home that may suitably be called magic it must be that of the Peyraud family in Bandol. The place has all the delicate mystery one senses in reading Alain Fournier’s Les Grandes Meaulnes (in English, The Wanderer) but also the very visceral, sensual quality of the best food one is likely to eat, prepared by Lulu Peyraud. Once there, there is not the slightest desire to ever leave, not for Paris let alone home.
I had been to Lulu Peyraud’s for lunch once before I met Richard in the spring of 1996. In the earlier trip I was with a Franco-American, Guy de la Valdène, who had taught me a great deal about both the French and their cooking. I was very excited at the time to learn that Richard lived in the area because I was so devoted to his work, much in the manner that I would have been in Mississippi had I known that Faulkner was down the road frying bacon for lunch to go with his bourbon. I’ve never been interested in differentiating between genres. The best is the best and we must take it on the rare occasions that we find it.
So in 1996 when I was on a French book tour, no more delightful than an American book tour except that, unlike in America, the food will carry you through, I drove to Lulu’s for lunch with my friend the French literary fixture and translator, Brice Mattieussent. I was a bit flustered, actually stunned, to find that Kermit Lynch and Gail Skoff were there with the fabled Richard Olney. In a curious, not improbable way, I had the same set of feelings I had had years before in London on spending time with John Huston. Were either of them still alive the comparison might strike them as far-fetched, but I can guarantee they would have been drawn to each other. In both cases I knew the work thoroughly before I met the man. And in both men there was an uncompromising, tenacious, and indefatigable pursuit of excellence, an implicit splendor that accompanies Kierkegaard’s “purity of heart is to will one thing,” whether it be the art of food and wine or the art of cinema.
In Reflexions and in person one senses that like many artists Richard was quite human, only more so. He was perhaps too indulgent with some of his friends but that is part of the territory, and I remember his laconic twinkle when I was carted away after a four-hour lunch and a great deal of wine to address a large audience in Marseille. He was sympathetic but knew the situation was comic. Luckily with a gallon of excellent Domaine Tempier Bandol in my system the audience became a flowery blur.
The next morning on the train from Marseille to Paris I remember reflecting that there was a specific grandeur to Richard Olney. This was a largehearted man, and his largeheartedness is everywhere in Reflexions, from his single-minded devotion to his work, to his lifelong love for his five brothers and sisters and his many friends. One can only imagine the loss felt by his close friends such as Kermit and Gail, Lulu Peyraud and Alice Waters, and his brothers and sisters and their children who were so close to him. Reflexions is an enchanting memoir of this life.
by Jim Harrison, March 2000
Richard and Kermit © Gail Skoff
I was thoroughly swept away by Richard Olney’s Reflexions, which made me all the more saddened by his death this past July. There is ample evidence in Reflexions that no one on the planet has sat at better tables, most especially his own, or drank consistently better wines than Richard Olney. The evidence here and in his many other books, all of which I revere for their lucidity and range as books about food and wine that suggest, but not obtrusively, that there are standards that must be kept, no matter how implausibly high these standards might be. And this is all against a backdrop, a diorama, of a life lived with devotion and honor, of life lived as art itself.
If I have ever been to a home that may suitably be called magic it must be that of the Peyraud family in Bandol. The place has all the delicate mystery one senses in reading Alain Fournier’s Les Grandes Meaulnes (in English, The Wanderer) but also the very visceral, sensual quality of the best food one is likely to eat, prepared by Lulu Peyraud. Once there, there is not the slightest desire to ever leave, not for Paris let alone home.
I had been to Lulu Peyraud’s for lunch once before I met Richard in the spring of 1996. In the earlier trip I was with a Franco-American, Guy de la Valdène, who had taught me a great deal about both the French and their cooking. I was very excited at the time to learn that Richard lived in the area because I was so devoted to his work, much in the manner that I would have been in Mississippi had I known that Faulkner was down the road frying bacon for lunch to go with his bourbon. I’ve never been interested in differentiating between genres. The best is the best and we must take it on the rare occasions that we find it.
So in 1996 when I was on a French book tour, no more delightful than an American book tour except that, unlike in America, the food will carry you through, I drove to Lulu’s for lunch with my friend the French literary fixture and translator, Brice Mattieussent. I was a bit flustered, actually stunned, to find that Kermit Lynch and Gail Skoff were there with the fabled Richard Olney. In a curious, not improbable way, I had the same set of feelings I had had years before in London on spending time with John Huston. Were either of them still alive the comparison might strike them as far-fetched, but I can guarantee they would have been drawn to each other. In both cases I knew the work thoroughly before I met the man. And in both men there was an uncompromising, tenacious, and indefatigable pursuit of excellence, an implicit splendor that accompanies Kierkegaard’s “purity of heart is to will one thing,” whether it be the art of food and wine or the art of cinema.
In Reflexions and in person one senses that like many artists Richard was quite human, only more so. He was perhaps too indulgent with some of his friends but that is part of the territory, and I remember his laconic twinkle when I was carted away after a four-hour lunch and a great deal of wine to address a large audience in Marseille. He was sympathetic but knew the situation was comic. Luckily with a gallon of excellent Domaine Tempier Bandol in my system the audience became a flowery blur.
The next morning on the train from Marseille to Paris I remember reflecting that there was a specific grandeur to Richard Olney. This was a largehearted man, and his largeheartedness is everywhere in Reflexions, from his single-minded devotion to his work, to his lifelong love for his five brothers and sisters and his many friends. One can only imagine the loss felt by his close friends such as Kermit and Gail, Lulu Peyraud and Alice Waters, and his brothers and sisters and their children who were so close to him. Reflexions is an enchanting memoir of this life.