The road south out of the pretty medieval village of La Cadière d’Azurt in Bandol heads downhill at first, into the valley, then, shortly after flattening out by the modern Pompier station, I pick up the sign for Pibarnon, turn left off the blacktop and start into the hills. The road begins to climb and twist, then climbs and twists even more, getting rougher and more rutted the higher I go. The car kicks up clouds of dust to add to that already covering the surrounding pines and scrub oak in a fine film, turning everything a monochromatic grey despite the dazzling Provençal sunshine.
Eventually the road flattens out and I pull up in the gravel courtyard in front of the handsome bastide that is both the office of Chateau Pibarnon, one of the finest producers in Bandol, and the home of its owners, the de Saint Victor family.
Wine has been made in Provence since before the arrival of the Romans but it has, until very recently, never had much of a reputation. Provence has been known principally for thin, often acidic rosé that northerners drank when they came south on vacation (and then promptly forgot), and the sort of rough red that has been made all across southern France for centuries.
Now things are changing in a big way, and the de Saint Victor family is emblematic of much of this evolution. When it bought the property in 1978, there were only 3.5 hectares planted. Now there are 40, and every summer they carve new terraces out of the steep hillside to plant a few more vines.
It is this sort of investment that is changing wine making all over Provence. The old peasant winemaker, with his emphasis on quantity (he was, after all, paid by the kilo) is giving way to a more educated counterpart, often from outside the region, someone with a commitment to making quality modern wine to appeal to today’s market. But while this change is apparent all across this sunny corner of southeast France, it is still the tiny appellation of Bandol that leads the way.
Set in a natural amphitheater facing the sea, the panoramic views from Pibarnon make the local topography easy to discern. It is a clear day and I can see straight down the valley to the southeast all the way to the Mediterranean, which is glistening in the sun 5 kilometers away. The sun is intensely bright in an impossibly azure blue sky, and amidst the twisted olive trees, the heat and the dust, I feel I could have stepped into a Monet painting.
However, it wasn’t the view that attracted the de Saint Victor family to the site when they moved from northern France, but the terroir. The steep slopes, the high elevation and the poor soil result in hot days and cool nights. Old, deep-rooted vines, low yields and long hang times all help produce the intensely flavored wines for which Bandol is famous.
The Pibarnon Rosé 2004 is comprised of 50% Mourvedre and 50% Cinsault. The proportion of Mourvedre is unusual in that most producers save their Mourvedre for their red and use a lighter varietal in the rosé. This gives it an altogether bigger mouth-feel and greater complexity, and also helps account for its $27 price tag.
They release two red labels, Chateau de Pibarnon and Les Restanques de Pibarnon. The latter is, in effect, a second label, made from younger vines and is classified as a Vin de Pays, but still fetches $22–which is a tribute to Pibarnon’s reputation. The 2004 is fresh, fruity and approachable, but I’d still keep it a couple of years before drinking.
Their flagship wine is the Chateau de Pibarnon. According to Eric de Saint Victor, the 2004 ($35) is ‘about to be released in the US because the American people ask always for very young wines, but in the French market probably in 3 years.’ Based on my tasting of some of the older vintages of this lovely wine, I would think that drinking it in 3 years would be far too soon. For instance, the 1997 is just now coming into its prime, showing seductive hints of spiciness, wet leather and cedar.
Even the 1990 is still alive with fresh blackcurrant and other dark fruits. It has a real wet-earth nose and that earthy, woods-after-rain flavor. It is a luxurious wine, deep and rich and one that continues to evolve in the glass. At first I am aware of its constituent parts, but after 15 minutes they meld together into a great, mature wine. And to think the 2004 is what you’ll find in the shops today.
My next stop, Domaines Bunan, is less that a kilometer away across the rugged country, but I don’t have an off-road vehicle so have to make a five kilometer, 355 degree circle. The setting is every bit as spectacular as Pibarnon, with an imposing stone house sitting on a hill overlooking the vineyards.
Bunan have three estates that they vinify and bottle separately, but not all the cuvées are available in the US. They use both 220 liter barriques and 500 liter bottes, and as in much of southern Europe, the use of barriques in Bandol is both new and controversial. As Laurent Bunan explains ‘We only use a small percentage of barriques. For us it’s like spice. We prefer to have the tannin from the grapes than the oak.’
Unusually for Provence, Bunan make serious white wines, from Clairette, as well as rosés and reds. The Mas de la Rouvière 2005 white ($20) undergoes no malolactic fermentation, so is delightfully fresh and lively. Yet it still has some weight to it, ‘from the ground’ as Laurent explains, though I think it has a lot to do with being aged on its yeast lees too.
The Chateau la Rouvière 2004 white ($24) is an altogether more elegant wine. It comes from older vines and shows a deep, complex minerality. ‘You would not think it was a wine from Provence’ Laurent himself observes.
The Mas de la Rouvière Rosé 2005 had only just been bottled when I tasted it, and seemed somewhat unresolved, but the Chateau la Rouvière Rosé 2004 was superb. It is big and full in the mouth without being heavy. There’s a softness to it but still plenty of acidity, making it an ideal food rosé.
Among the reds, the standout is the Chateau la Rouvière 2002. Composed of 95% Mourvedre from 60 year old vines, its aromas are already showing an earthy, barnyard fecundity that makes it seem more mature than it actually is. In the mouth, however, it’s still fresh and tannic, and needs several more years to show its true potential.
My last stop is perhaps the best known property in Bandol, Domaine Tempier. Its fame is due not only to its superior wines but also to the tireless crusade conducted by Lucien Peyraud, the father of the current owners, during the years following the Second World War to have Bandol wines recognized alongside the finest in France. Such was his success that Tempier wines, especially the single vineyard offerings, are among the most expensive in southern France.
The 2005 Tempier Bandol Rosé ($31) is a pale salmon pink color and quite delicious. A tad off-dry, it has (thanks to a high proportion of Mourvedre), a complexity unusual in rosé from anywhere.
The Tempier Bandol Rouge ($35) is a huge, powerful wine just packed with rich, dark-fruit flavors, and seemed a standout wine until I tasted the three, limited production, single vineyard bottlings. The Bandol Le Migoua 2004 ($51) comes from a steep, hillside terrace planted with old vines, 50% Mourvedre and 50% Cinsault. It is big, fat and rich in the mouth, and a wonderfully sensual wine.
The Bandol La Tourtine 2004 ($51) is intensely flavored with concentrated red berry flavors and hints of spiciness. It already shows, even at this young age, enticing hints of leather and cedar, which presages well for its future.
If the above two wines are typically fine Bandol reds, the third single vineyard wine, Bandol Cabassou 2004 ($75), is a classic, rich, creamy, visceral, ratings-friendly international style red. It is hugely popular, and although Tempier has recently raised its price, it still can’t make enough of this red to satisfy global demand.
The impressive fact that all these wines are supremely age-worthy is bought home to me by the last wine I taste. Towards the end of our conversation, Daniel Ravier, the director, heads off into the cellar one more time, and comes back with a very dusty old bottle, a La Tourtine 1982. There is trouble with the cork at first (‘They didn’t pay good attention to the corks in those days,’ he grumbles), but after a diligent struggle it is extracted, and boy, is it worth the effort! This is my kind of wine.
It is still healthy looking, with good fruit and plenty of acidity, but what makes it so special are the layers of nuanced, complex flavors. It is positively gamy, being redolent of mushrooms, truffles, and the musty scent of wet leaves. It’s the sort of wine that continues to evolve in the glass, each sip revealing a different combination of flavors, and it just cries out for food. It makes me begin to think of dinner – a roast Provencal lamb with rosemary and thyme perhaps? Now, where can I get an old bottle of Tempier?
Nick Passmore contributes a widely read monthly column on wine and spirits to Forbes.com, and his work also appears in a wide range of print magazines including Forbes FYI, Town & Country, Saveur, Sky, Elite Traveler, Robb Report and the Wine Enthusiast.