Four generations of the same family, a Grand Cru Classé that opened its oldest vintages, and a lunch that nobody wanted to end.
They had crossed the Atlantic for a family reunion, and the Médoc was the one day everybody had circled on the calendar. Nine o’clock, Allées de Tourny: the grandparents in front, the teenagers at the back, and a first question before we even left the city. What exactly is a Grand Cru Classé?
The Route des Châteaux
We answered it one château at a time. Margaux and its colonnade, Beychevelle and its gardens, the towers of Pichon facing each other across the road. Photo stops, anecdotes, and the 1855 classification explained with the vines on both sides of the car.
The gate of the first estate of the day.
The first-year cellar, just before the tasting.
In the cellar
The cellar master was waiting for us. Barrels, blends, the difference between a great vintage and a difficult one, and then the moment everybody remembers: three vintages side by side, the youngest one born the same year as the youngest guest.
“I didn’t know a wine could taste of the year I was born.”
Lunch lasted longer than planned, as it should. In the afternoon, a family estate, a winemaker who talked about his grandfather’s vines, and a last stop above the estuary before driving back to Bordeaux.
What they took home
A few bottles from the estates, a list of addresses for the rest of their stay, and a question for next year: Saint-Émilion, or the helicopter?
