It’s time to change the narrative on Bordeaux, says Nick Kemball from our Events team. Life as a sommelier almost turned Nick away from the region, though a recent trip there reminded him what he was missing.  

My iPhone’s Memories function recently presented me with a picture of a 1982 Château La Mission Haut-Brion. I often take pictures of food, so I’m usually asked to reminisce over sandwiches of days gone by, but this photo was momentous. It was one of those particularly impactful bottles, demonstrating that wine could be much more than a drink; it could be an experience. And eight years later, I still remember exactly how it tasted. 

Wine enthusiasts will usually be very happy to tell you about their “gateway” wine, the one pivotal bottle that hooked them. It doesn’t have to be Bordeaux, of course, but very often, it is. Mature Bordeaux, when it really gets it right, hits every Pavlovian receptor with precision. This bottle was no exception: dense black fruit, defined aromas of cedar and graphite, all framed nicely in assertive but sensible oak. It was served at a harvest dinner by a friend of mine, a Canadian winemaker. In that magical way that wine sometimes does, it perfectly fit the occasion, lifting not only the food but the entire afternoon into something unforgettable. Wine sometimes resonates at its perfect frequency. 

Shunning Bordeaux

In my career progression from pastry chef to vagrant winemaker’s assistant to sommelier, I discovered that the region I so enjoyed drinking was, in fact, decidedly antiquated. Younger people in the wine trade often view Bordeaux as old-fashioned, commercial, or lacking that elusive “sense of place”.

Peer pressure must have gotten the better of me, as I had a rebellious adolescence as a sommelier, during which I stopped drinking the classics and sought out the obscure and esoteric. If there was a rare, indigenous grape from some far-flung corner of the world, I wanted to be drinking it. I made many great discoveries in the process, I should add. But it wasn’t long before I began to view Bordeaux with the same scepticism as my peers.  

Returning to my wine studies, I find myself revisiting the classics, both figuratively and literally. Last October, I visited Bordeaux. And although this was to be for pleasure, not business, a few concessions were made for producer visits. I am glad, because these visits ended up reshaping some views I had formed about Bordeaux. 

More than meets the eye 

First, there’s the notion that Bordeaux is rarely an artisanal wine. I can see why one might believe this. At Château d’Yquem, the entrance feels not unlike the lobby of a luxury hotel. No expense has been spared in bringing gold accents to almost every interior fixture you can think of. In a particularly resplendent bathroom, every square inch dazzles with gold, from the mosaicked walls to the mirrors (and, if memory serves, even the hand dryers). 

I digress. Sauternes is an impressive place, and Yquem, situated at its highest point, makes it seem even more so. There is a vastness to it, and the sky feels bigger here. Looking out over the stretch from the château’s garden to the Garonne, our guide etched out on the horizon its 113 hectares with a finger. It was hard to fathom that this entire expanse is scoured for botrytised grapes every autumn – by 200 pickers, in as many as 10 passes through the vineyard. In the cellar, there is surprisingly little to see besides the barrels in which Yquem ferments and matures. Yquem is the definition of a wine made in the vineyard. 

The second realisation I have made is that Bordeaux is not stuck in a rut of conventional agriculture, as many claim it to be. Discussing who’s experimenting with organics or biodynamics has become almost trite; nearly every Classified Growth is exploring these practices nowadays.  

If that sounds suspiciously like a fad, one only needs to listen to Thomas Duroux, CEO at Château Palmer, to hear someone completely devoted to the cause. Duroux sees the shift to better farming practices as a necessity. His commitment to being a custodian of Bordelais terroir and the people working within it is admirable.  

It is encouraging to see so many châteaux asking important questions, such as what sustainability should encompass beyond the treatments used in the vineyard. Estates like Château Montrose are revitalising ecosystems, capturing carbon from fermentation and implementing wastewater management systems. These initiatives may not roll off the tongue with the same lyrical quality as “dynamised water” or “lunar cycles”. But looking at the larger picture is what sustainability should be all about: preserving the Bordeaux of tomorrow – the wines, the land and the people who work it. 

An accusation often levelled against Bordeaux is that its wines are homogenous and there isn’t enough diversity. This view is slightly anachronistic.  

There have been times when wines across Bordeaux were made in a plump, extracted style to please influential critics. But there has been a welcome change in recent years. Guillaume Pouthier at Château Les Carmes Haut-Brion is leading this shift, steering the wines in a fantastic new direction with lighter extraction and whole-bunch fermentation – winemaking techniques more akin to Burgundy or the Northern Rhône. The results are truly outstanding: lifted and fragrant wines with buoyant fruitiness and acidity. Their excellent-value second wine, Le C des Carmes Haut-Brion, could be considered a vin de soif (a thirst-quencher) by any measure. 

Finally, I had always assumed that drinking fine Bordeaux was beyond my means. I’ve since discovered a great deal of drinking pleasure in white Bordeaux, second wines and a number of overperforming Classified Growths – Château Grand-Puy-Lacoste, I’m looking at you. Granted, these are not wines with prices that justify weekday drinking, but in the context of wines for special occasions, I’ve started to realise that, in fact, Bordeaux can offer great value for money. 

Changing the narrative 

In my time as a sommelier, I’ve changed my mind about many things. Much like musical tastes, my preferences in wine have shifted constantly over the years. Notably, I’ve come full circle on Bordeaux. My first taste of La Mission Haut-Brion revealed the unquestionable truth that this region produces some of the greatest wines on the planet. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that Bordeaux and its wines remain unchanged for generations, but a closer look presents a very different picture: things are constantly evolving in Bordeaux, to ensure its continuity. 

I’m left feeling that it’s time to change the narrative. Calling Bordeaux old-fashioned is a cliché in and of itself. Hopefully, young sommeliers will start to view the region for what it is: a complex and dynamic region where old meets new. Bordeaux may not be considered “cool”, but it isn’t trying to be. And, just like people, what could be more alluring than a region that is confidently aware of its own identity?

Browse our range of Bordeaux to drink now.