Though his family made its name for its single-vineyard Côte-Rôties, Philippe Guigal is bullish on St.-Jo: "It has the potential to grow fast and big in the next few years."
Photo: TODD M. WERNSTROM
Saint-Joseph -Less Proves More in the Northern Rhône By Todd M. WernstromSomething is decidedly - if quietly - afoot on the steep, granite slopes of the Northern Rhône's St.-Joseph appellation. As a wine-producing region, this place's history,
like much of France's, is an old one. Yet it has been just in the last ten years that its renaissance has gained momentum, according to Pierre Gonon, a vigneron from Mauves, one of St.-Joseph's most important communes along with Tournon, Chavanay and Limony.
It was during this period that the boundaries of the Appellation d'Origine Contrôllée (AOC) were redrawn to increase quality by removing those vineyards - primarily on the valley floor - that had unfortunately been included in an expansion of the appellation in the early 1970s. This strategy resulted in a significant reduction of classified vineyards, a retrenchment so severe that more than half of the former AOC was held to be unsuitable for vines, and a third of the existing vineyards were marked for declassification in the ensuing 30 years.
Now one-third of the way into this unusual experiment, it's a good time to take stock of this oft-neglected Rhône cru - especially because the progress cited by Gonon has been given a none-too-subtle push of late by the mighty Guigal family.
The firm of E. Guigal is located outside of the appellation in the little town of Ampuis and is virtually synonymous with Côte-Rôtie. It nearly single-handedly fostered that area's own rebirth with its single-vineyard luxury cuvées named La Turque, La Mouline and La Landonne. The Guigals have recently taken a stake in St.-Jo (as it's referred to in shorthand) in a big way. They did so by buying the well-regarded vineyards of Jean-Louis Grippat in the southern portion of the appellation, including perhaps the most historically famous parcel: that of the Benevolent Hospital of Tournon. "The overall quality of the appellation is quite good," says the dashing Philippe Guigal, directeur général and winemaker who, along with his father Marcel and mother Bernadette, runs the firm that his grandfather Étienne founded in 1946. "I believe it has the potential to grow fast and big in the next few years. We want to do for St.-Joseph what we did for Côte-Rôtie," he adds without a bit of pretension.
St.-Jo is poised to generate consumer interest for another reason as well. Outside of a few bottles, most notably Guigal's Vignes de l'Hospice and Chapoutier's white and red Les Granits, the better wines are generally less than $30. American consumers like Rhône wines: We are second behind the United Kingdom in consumption of its yearly cache of 97 million export bottles, and a very close second at that. Perhaps more tellingly, we are the world's greatest consumer of exported cru Rhône as a full 25 percent of our Rhône imports wear those marks of distinction (there are 13 crus in the Rhône). We drink a lot of simple Côtes-du-Rhône as well, but our interest in the crus is twice that of any other of the world's markets. According to Louis Chèze, a vigneron from the northern St.-Jo commune of Limony, this makes St.-Joseph a fine place to look for quality Rhône wine. "There has been a lot of improvement in the last 20 years," he notes, "particularly because more and more of the wine comes only from the slopes and the other is being phased out."
Though Guigal's interest in this sprawling collection of vineyards located close to the Rhône River should alone be enough to cause consumers to take note, a number of Rhône heavies, including the likes of M. Chapoutier, Jaboulet and Chave, long pre-date Guigal's foray - the first Guigal vintage of St.-Jo is dated 1999 - so quality-consciousness among producers was already in place.
The key to broad consumer recognition may be simply getting the word out. "Twenty years ago,
St.-Joseph was not very well known in Paris," Gonon admits. Adds Guigal, "It's always been a huge wine in Lyon (about 30 miles to the north of Côte-Rôtie, the Northern Rhône's northern-most cru), but it needs to be more than a 'French wine.' I'm sure the quality is there to make it more than a 'French wine' like Hermitage and Condrieu (two of the most well-known crus). It lacks in identity a little bit."
And it's really no wonder given the sheer vastness of the region we collectively refer to as the Rhône. Spanning numerous départements, including the Loire, Ardèche, Drôme and Rhône itself, vines hug the wiggly river as it makes its way south from its source in the Alps to sunny Provence.
Virtually every type of wine is made within the Vallée du Rhône, including the unctuously sweet red or white sparklers, simple dry reds and whites, and age-worthy powerhouses - both red and white as well. Prices run the gamut as well. Even France's best-known rosés from Tavel are part of a prodigious output that is second only to that of Bordeaux (though Bordeaux production is nearly 40 percent greater). With about 200,000 acres under vine, the Rhône makes the famed vineyards of Burgundy and Alsace seem insignificant in comparison, sized as they are at 62,000 acres and 37,000 acres respectively.
Its history is as great as its size. The vine followed the march of Rome's legions up the Rhône, its valley functioning as a superhighway leading to conflict with the Germanic tribes to the north. The Church fell in quickly behind and established many of the great place names that still resonate today. There have been 24 centuries of vintages of Côte-Rôtie. Hermitage was written about by Dumas, and Charlemagne and Louis XIV were said to covet Cornas. By contrast, St.-Jo's history is probably not as long as Hermitage's. Yet certainly by the late 15th century, the vineyard of Clos de Tournon, in the southern part of the modern appellation, was one of only a few royal vineyards, assuring it a prominent place on the right tables. Victor Hugo was a fan and wrote of the wines of Mauves in Les Misérables.
To speak of the Rhône collectively, though, is done simply out of convenience, as the two "halves" have little, if anything, in common. With one notable exception, the Northern Rhône is composed of relatively compact vineyards located hard by the river itself. Most of the production is on the west bank of that river (only Hermitage and Crozes-Hermitage are on the east side). The vineyards of Côte-Rôtie, Condrieu and the miniscule Château-Grillet define the northern part. Hermitage, Crozes-Hermitage, Cornas and St.-Péray the southern portion. And in between lies ill-defined St.-Joseph.
Actually, St.-Jo stretches from Château-Grillet all the way to Cornas, nearly the southern-most Northern Rhône spot, and this lack of compactness mimics the sweep of the Rhône as a whole. The Southern Rhône vineyards spread out east and west in a manner not possible farther north. (The great Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the Southern Rhône's preeminent cru, is itself about equal to the size of all the Northern crus combined.)
St.-Joseph, allayed in a north-south fashion, is composed of Rorschach-shaped splotches of vineyards stretching out over a length of 35 miles and never very far from the snaking river. About 2,350 acres are currently planted, with two very distinct halves defining its production. Its birthplace is in the southern part of the appellation near the towns of Mauves and Tournon (the appellation's name comes from a hillside outside of Tournon). The northern, and much newer portion, is framed by the towns of Chavanay and Limony. Within this expanse of 26 communes there are some 420 grape growers, 300 of whom sell their grapes to one of four co-ops. "St.-Joseph is interesting because, while everyone knows Côte-Rôtie and Hermitage, they are relatively compact. St.-Jo is broken up constantly by its numerous microclimates," observes Joël Durand, a vigneron and president of the Syndicat des Vignerons de St.-Joseph, the local trade organization behind the révision that took place ten years ago. Within all of this diversity, vignerons here identify two styles of St.-Joseph: The wines from the north around Chavanay and Limony are lighter and more fruit forward; those from near Mauves and Tournon are more spicy, rich and perhaps more Southern Rhône-like.
Even in the face of St.-Jo's admitted sprawl, there are a few notable similarities throughout its best vineyards. The appellation as a whole has a fairly moderate continental climate with sufficient rain in normal years. The summers are hot, and thanks to the mistral, there is usually a stiff breeze that picks up a great deal of speed as it whips down toward Avignon and the vineyards of the Southern Rhône. (Though not as pronounced in the Northern Rhône, it can still make standing on terraced vineyards much better suited for goats than humans.)
The appellation's vineyards are now concentrated on the slopes - upward of 80 percent thanks to the révision according to Pierre Gonon - and those slopes are steep. Machine use is impossible because vines climb up to 1,300 feet in places and are often in the 650 to 1,000 foot range. In fact, despite its reputation for precipitous slopes, Côte-Rôtie's elevations, while angled dangerously, are not as high as St.-Jo's. Only Southern Rhône cru Gigondas's 1,600-plus-foot vineyards that look down on the aptly named Dentelles - literally resembling pearly whites jutting from jagged mountain "gums" - are higher in the Rhône. Granite is the defining feature of the south-southeast facing St.-Joseph vineyards with some version of it found everywhere, barely covered by wind-blown sand as is often the case in the south of St.-Jo, or layered a bit by schisty soils, limestone and assorted rocks.
The vignerons of St.-Joseph range from the small producer to the large co-op with newcomers and big names in between. As in the rest of the Northern Rhône, they work with syrah for the reds. The whites are mostly marsanne with lesser amounts of roussanne (red St.-Joseph can have up to 10 percent of the white grapes as well). "Fifteen years ago, only a few were using roussanne, but now it's increasing even though it's difficult to vinify. But it's important because it gives finesse to the whites," Gonon says. Ninety-two percent of St.-Jo's production is red with the balance white. No sweet, sparkling or rosés are permitted.
Vines are clearly within view from just about any point on the 35-mile north-south journey down the N. 86 roadway suggesting an abundance of production. But this is deceptive because a closer look shows those vines straining to stand at attention on terraces and slopes that hold rocky, ungenerous soils. Despite St.-Jo's relatively large size compared to its Northern Rhône brethren, it is moving away from any semblance of a bulk mentality.
Louis Chèze, who started out 18 years ago with two acres and now works about 55, shrugs when asked if he is in search of more prime vineyards
now that the révision is thinning out the lesser plots. "I'm a vigneron, not a businessman," he offers. Perhaps more to the point, Gonon says, "If you increase your vineyard, you spend even more time in the office. But St.-Joseph slopes require so much work. You have to be with your workers. You can't say 'take a tractor and do this,' you have to stay and work yourself."
The suggestion is that this isn't the place - at least any longer - to supply containers of easily made wine. But the reputation, known perhaps by only a few at this point, is only now recovering from the misguided expansion of the appellation's initial 1956 boundaries. In the heady days of the early '70s, vineyards were seemingly included regardless of where they were situated, and were well outside of the appellation's historic heart around Mauves and Tournon. Certainly, the inclusion of some vineyards was wise, but the expansion that was finally reversed 20 years later is only now bearing its fruit.
"If we had met even four or five years ago," Philippe Guigal says, "I would have frankly said that we had no interest in St.-Joseph. You can't do everything. We were already in Côtes-du-Rhône and Condrieu and were dreaming of vineyards in Hermitage." Indeed. The Guigals are quite busy with a yearly output of six million bottles, only about ten percent of which comes from their prized Northern Rhône vineyards. "One day, Jean-Louis Grippat came to us and said he was turning 60, and his two daughters didn't think they wanted to take over his business. He thought he was losing his passion. The wine business is complicated. He was tired of it," Guigal says. But Guigal père et fils weren't particularly interested in that part of the world. Out of respect for Grippat, however, they went to see his vineyards. "He fooled us by getting us to come down. Once we saw how wonderful his terroir was, we did the deal ten minutes later," Guigal recalls.
What they ended up with were lots of old vines - some up to 75 - on very steep, rocky vineyards. The Hospice parcel looks remarkably like a ski run cut out of a mountain forest. Eighty percent of the Grippat estate is located in the original St.-Joseph vineyard that is confusingly called St.-Joseph, or more accurately, Lieu-Dit St.-Joseph. "Lieu-dit" means "named place," and while other areas of France have favored places easily differentiated - Côtes Brune and Blonde in Côte-Rôtie, Le Montrachet in Burgundy, and Kitterlé, Saering and Kessler in Alsace just to name a few - not so in St.-Jo. "These two St.-Josephs are part of the problem of St.-Joseph," Guigal says. To make it easy, think of Lieu-Dit St.-Joseph as the appellation's "classico" zone; that is, the place where the yet-to-be-officially-named area made its name.
To make matters a bit more confusing for consumers, while Guigal wants to push the Lieu-Dit, other producers are less interested in those words on their labels. For instance, one is far more likely to see bottles named the way Chapoutier does with its Les Granits (variations of the word granite are very popular), both of which come from the original zone, as does some of the fruit for the Deschants. Another name on labels that hints at the origin of the contents of the bottles is Le Berceau. Berceau means "cradle," thus establishing a presence at the creation.
Given the fact that the INAO, the French governmental agency responsible for classifying the country's vineyards, was less than precise in framing St.-Joseph, one would think that more producers would elect to trumpet the origins of their placement within this esteemed area. "It's easier to use a name like Granits. Lieu-Dit St.-Joseph is a super-appellation. It requires extra regulation. You have to register it. More paperwork," Guigal offers by way of an explanation. Though according to Michel Chapoutier, "While lieux-dits have an important role to play, it's perhaps more important today to first focus on raising the profile and image of the appellation of St.-Jo."
When asked how they manage to retain their luxury cuvée reputation while producing so much more of the lesser wines, Guigal says, "We're very American. We work ten- to twelve-hour days. But we enjoy what we do." All of their wines -- from the most humble Côtes-du-Rhône Rosé to the much-sought-after single vineyard Côte-Rôties -- are finished under the watchful eyes of father and son in Ampuis. And despite the fact that so much of the wine hails from the Southern Rhône, the Guigals don't even own facilities there. "We could, but we're in Ampuis and want to be present when the wine is bottled. We are a traditional winery," he says over the din and clank of the shiny, computer-controlled bottling line, quickly adding, "We use ultramodern technique to do ultra-traditional wine. We've gone from being the slowest to fill orders to the fastest." No mean feat with France's 36-hour workweek.
The name of Paul Jaboulet-Ainé evokes similar breathless devotion from its fans. And like the Guigals, Jaboulet has an interest in St.-Joseph, though it has been making its bargain-priced red and white Le Grand Pompée -- named for one of Charlemagne's preferred generals -- for far longer. Dating from the early 19th century and now the holder of 228 acres of Rhône vineyards, Jaboulet is best known for its red named for the lonely, whitewashed chapel perched atop Hermitage's most visible slope. La Chapelle may be the world's most profound Syrah, but it is only a small part of Jaboulet's 300,000-plus case production.
A visit to Domaine Bernard Gripa's cellar is a step back in time as compared to the Guigal or Jaboulet operations. While Domaine Gripa is Mauves's oldest, one would hardly call Frabrice Gripa, current proprietor and son of Bernard, the head of an operation. Rather, he simply goes about working his 22 acres in St.-Joseph - much of it in Lieu-Dit St.-Joseph - and other vineyards in the nearby Saint-Péray cru (only still and sparkling white wine is permitted here) in a more traditional way than many. "We want to have a different wine each vintage because each vintage has a different personality," he says, noting that his 2001 St.-Jo red was "a bit 'smelly,' but that's the wine. In three years, it won't be like that." He doesn't like to pump-over, de-stem or practice closed-container fermentation for his reds even though this would have ameliorated that temporary stink.
His two best St.-Jos come from the Lieu-Dit, but are called Le Berceau. When his father first started making wine, St.-Joseph couldn't be put on the labels, and he has continued with the original name. The white is 100 percent marsanne, produced from 75-year-old vines, and "finds its balance after eight or ten years," he says. The regular white is a blend of 80 percent marsanne with the remainder roussanne. The Berceau red is 100 percent syrah. "Ten years out is a good time to drink it. We depend on the vintage of course, but you want the wines to last 20 years," Gripa says, throwing in the unexpected comment that "this is easier for the whites than the reds."
Part of Gripa's Lieu-Dit vineyards sandwich much of the source of Chapoutier's Deschants white, and reach an elevation of 720 feet. The drive - a slow and bumpy crawl would be more accurate - demonstrates how painfully steep the vineyards are positioned. Held in place by stone terraces - "every winter we build up the walls" - the vines look to be constantly in danger of toppling forward. Gripa manages to squeeze 50,000 bottles per year out of his St.-Joseph holdings, though the brutally hot 2003 vintage will cut that figure in half (a sentiment echoed by others). He measures his exports to the U.S. in the hundreds of bottles, but would gladly send more. By way of an endorsement of his produce, he says, "The question is how you see wine. Our wine is to drink at 3 a.m. with friends. It's not the best wine in the world, but it's good wine." His modesty is admirable; he repays compliments by saying, "I just want to make a living from my work."
Gilles Robin is a smaller holder of St.-Joseph than Gripa, though he makes up for the paucity of his vineyards - at present he has one acre in Le Berceau with another 1.25 soon to be planted - by his ambition. Primarily a Crozes-Hermitage producer with about 35 acres of that east bank cru, Robin started out the way many in the Rhône do: His family used to sell its grapes to the co-op.
Since 1996, Robin has been making his own wine, and he was pleased to show off his brand-new subterranean cellar - with vaulted ceilings and attractive lighting, it bore a striking resemblance to Guigal's, though on a much, much smaller scale. His father prefers to farm fruit trees - the Rhône is famous for its stone fruit - but it's clear what Robin believes would be the highest and best use of the orchards abutting some of his estate Crozes vineyards. Robin makes two St.-Jos, a regular red - "it's very characteristic of St.-Joseph of the south, peppery and grapy," he says - and, only in the best years, a special cuvée. Named after an old vigneron, the Cuvée André Péalat comes from Le Berceau vines.
The story about how he secured these treasured plantings is a good one. "Péalat was a real farmer. He could look at the sky and tell the weather or tell how dry it would be based on the number of crickets in the vineyard," Robin says. One day in 1999, Péalat, who was by then "tired," tried one of Robin's Crozes-Hermitages, thought it was very good and sought out Robin, telling him that he had been looking for someone to take over his vineyard. The result is a deeply flavorful and beautifully balanced Syrah that shows little evidence of manipulation. Robin's modus operandi seems an obvious one:
"For the young vines, I try to express the syrah, and with the old, the terroir. The young ones don't have deep enough roots to reflect the mineralité of the vineyard," he posits. And like Gripa, the révision had no effect on him because his St.-Jo holdings are nestled in the Lieu-Dit.
Speaking of the wines of his area, Gripa says, "Those from the original St.-Joseph are very round and maybe a bit heavier than those from the north." According to Joël Durand, the president of the St.-Joseph vigneron organization, "It's quite true that there is a north St.-Jo and a south St.-Jo. In the north, there's often more fruit and acidity, and in the south, spice and richness." Chapoutier adds, "The northern St.-Jo is usually more elegant and mineral in style owing to the sandy granitic soil." Durand notes that "Louis Chèze is a classic example of the north; Pierre Gonon is the same for the south."
Gonon has 20 acres, five of them white. His vines are in the important towns of Mauves, Tournon and St.-Jean-de-Muzols, just to the northwest of Tournon. His white is from Tournon. It's called Les Oliviers because that's what whites were called from this part of the south early in the 20th century. It's rich, honeyed and warm, and shows great balance in the face of its obvious heft. "We like to make wine with grapes, not new oak," Gonon says. The reds are peppery and mouth-filling. He thinks his whites are ready to go after a year or two and maybe up to eight in a very good year. The reds take longer.
Chèze gives a thumbs-up to the révision, but adds that the question of slope is often in the eye of the beholder. "Where is the 'slope,' the top or near the bottom? There are good exposures all over. Just because something is elevated doesn't make it superior," he says. Perhaps displaying a bit of defensiveness, Durand adds, "St.-Joseph is huge, but it's artisanal." Chèze's wines reflect this point. His white Cuvée Ro Rée is an aromatic mix of apricot and butter; his reds, especially the Cuvée des Anges, named in memory of his daughter who died young, are loaded with bright berry and rich mocha flavors. He bristles slightly when his white is likened to a Condrieu, remarking politely, "I see, but it's very much a St.-Joseph." The appellation's producers as a whole may now be on the same page and this should help it improve its visibility. "At the beginning of the révision, we thought people would fight about losing vineyards. But what happened is that vignerons were not from the north, south or middle. They were St.-Joseph. Each one is proud of where he's from, but now they're working for the appellation," Gonon declares.
The reputation of the area was for many years framed by its co-ops. But the co-op of today is a far cry from the one in the past that dutifully accepted the grapes of its members regardless of the quality of their work. Founded in 1933, the Cave de Tain l'Hermitage is one of those that has changed with the times. Always a large producer - it is responsible for vinifying 50 percent of all the Northern Rhône's wine - it has found the right balance between its obligations to its membership and the marketplace. From its astonishingly modern structure set within site of the famed La Chapelle of Hermitage, Export Manager Murielle Chardin-Frouin says, "We can't force our growers to do things, but we encourage them to keep yields low." And to back up the "suggestion" of good vineyard practice, the growers are paid not by volume but by the quality of their fruit. This isn't some big facility that churns out generic versions of reds and whites for the export market, as is often the case in Australia where the locals never see many of the labels that are shipped out. Seventy-two percent of the co-op's output stays in France, attesting to its merit.
This focus on quality over quantity is something that Durand continues to stress in his role as the growers' president. "My job is from the beginning to the end. It starts with the grapes and finishes with the wine. I try and help growers who don't bottle their own wine to understand that good wine comes from the vineyard," he says. He is particularly sensitive to the reputation of St.-Jo's co-ops (though the Cave de Tain l'Hermitage is represented in many other appellations as well) urging them to make the most representative St.-Joseph wines while understanding the importance of the contribution each grower makes to the end product. Durand used to sell his wine to Delas, Jaboulet and others, but in 1991 decided to make his own. His brother Eric joined him in 1996. They have 16 acres in the very south of southern St.-Jo, as well as an additional twelve in nearby Cornas. Their Cornas is excellent, but the St.-Jo is the epitome of the southern style: peppery and black-fruited with tobacco notes.
Like Guigal and Jaboulet, the firm of M. Chapoutier is a big-time négociant with many holdings and interests outside of its home base in Tain l'Hermitage. Also like Guigal, Chapoutier is a vigneron in St.-Joseph holding more than twelve acres in the coveted Lieu-Dit. Those vines result in the red and white Les Granits, hailed by many critics to be the two best St.-Jo wines each year.
With labels pocked by braille and farming practices that closely adhere to solar activity, Michel Chapoutier, the seventh-generation winemaker of the house dating to 1808, is probably the Rhône's most unorthodox producer. Vineyards host predator bugs to chase away the bad guys. There is even the occasional use of herbal teas in them. Wines are neither fined nor filtered, and artificial fertilizers have no place in the biodynamic regimen. It would perhaps be easy to follow such dictates on a small scale, but Chapoutier holds title to almost 400 acres of prime real estate in the Rhône, and he is the only one to do so in all of the most important crus, with the sole exception of Château-Grillet. Even with such a luxury of Rhône vineyard riches available to him, Chapoutier is high on St.-Joseph, saying, "Good
St.-Jo has so much to offer. The wines are worthy members of the Rhône's elite that includes Châteauneuf, Hermitage, Condrieu and Côte-Rôtie."
The révision has certainly helped the appellation become more focused, a good thing given its rather un-Northern Rhône layout. After all, few appellations anywhere have willingly downsized to increase quality. By doing so, the vignerons of St.-Jo have essentially ensured that more and more wine will come from better and better sites over the next two decades. The interest and investment of Guigal might be just what St.-Jo needs to achieve a position of prominence befitting the quality of its output. "We have every reason to believe that St.-Joseph can and will break out and become a recognized name in the U.S. market," Chapoutier confidently says. As aptly summed up by Durand: "People knew Grippat was going to sell, but no one knew who would get the vineyards. And when Guigal got them, it was good because the Guigal reputation is so good. They know how to make wine. It's good for the appellation and good for everyone."
Is St.-Joseph the next Côte-Rôtie? Certainly not judging by price, but for consumers in search of forward-drinking Syrah and whites of great richness and balance, St.-Jo just might be the right place to look for the next 20 years.
tasting BAR
Cave de Tain L'Hermitage, 2001 St.-Joseph Esprit de Granit - $17: Fragrant scents of red berry, earth and wet stone. Similar flavors with added spiciness and a hint of vanilla. Score: 88
M. Chapoutier, 1999 St.-Joseph Deschants -- $38: Rich, ripe scents of honeydew melon, butter and flowers. Buttery flavors of pear, citrus and toffee. Score: 88
M. Chapoutier, 2000 St.-Joseph Les Granits Blanc - $88: Concentrated aromas of ripe red apple, buttery oak, minerals and white flowers. Balanced, viscous flavors of stone fruit, pear, paraffin and nougat. Score: 90
M. Chapoutier, 2001 St.-Joseph Les Granits Rouge - $88: Very fragrant, perfumed aromas of sweet red fruit, mocha and baking spice offset by notes of minerals and espresso. Soft, vibrant flavors of cherry, raspberry, oak spice and bramble have perfect weight and length. Score: 93
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2002 St.-Joseph Blanc - $22: Taught scents of apricot, orange blossom honey and spice. Excellent mix of pineapple, honey and oak spice. A beautiful wine from a difficult year. Score: 94
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2000 St.-Joseph Blanc - $27: Heavier smelling than the 2002 with beeswax and honey notes. Citrus blossom and paraffin flavors. Score: 91
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2001 St.-Joseph Le Berceau Blanc - $35: Minerally aromas of honey and oak spice. More of the same in the mouth with a tobacco nuance. Score: 88
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 1996 St.-Joseph Le Berceau Blanc - $40: Very ripe and floral with notes of peach blossom and honey. Similar flavors with the addition of buttered stone fruit and tangy acidity. Score: 92
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2002 St.-Joseph Rouge - $22: Grapy, meaty aromas with lots of earth and black pepper in the mouth. Score: 87
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2001 St.-Joseph Rouge - $25: Dusty scents of blackberry, licorice and chocolate. Round, rich and plummy in the mouth with additional notes of coffee and vanilla. Score: 93
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 1999 St.-Joseph Rouge - $30: Grill pan, dust and black pepper in the nose. Chewy flavors of chocolate-covered fruit and spicy oak. Very long finish. Score: 92
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2001 St.-Joseph Le Berceau Rouge - $35: Perfectly integrated scents of black plum and gravel. Soft, balanced flavors of blackberry, earth and black pepper. Score: 93
Domaine Bernard Gripa, 2000 St.-Joseph Le Berceau Rouge - $36: Pungent barnyard scents include lots of earth and black pepper. Tight, peppery flavors of plum and oak. Score: 88
Domaine Louis Chèze, 2002 St.-Joseph Cuvée Ro Rée - $28: Fresh aromas of apricot and butter. Warm, tangy flavors of stone fruit, pear and dust. A big wine. Score: 88
Domaine Louis Chèze, 2002 St.-Joseph Cuvée Prestige de Caroline - $30: Warm, earthy scents of red berry, black pepper, earth and minerals. Similar flavors heightened by excellent balance. Score: 92
Domaine Louis Chèze, 2001 St.-Joseph Cuvée des Anges - $32: Sweet, chalky scents of red berry and mocha. Likewise in the mouth with the addition of vanilla. Creamy texture with great symmetry. Score: 92
Domaine Gilles Robin, 2003 St.-Joseph Rouge (barrel sample) - $N/A: Lean, peppery scents. Grapy, extracted flavors include mocha, oak and black pepper. Score: 88-91
Domaine Gilles Robin, 2001 St.-Joseph Cuvée André Péalat - $35: Very perfumed aromas of black cherry, chocolate and black pepper. Sweet, soft, integrated flavors of cherry, chocolate and earth. Lots of spice in the long close. Score: 92
Domaine Gilles Robin, 1999 St.-Joseph Cuvée André Péalat - $32: Initial burst of black pepper yields to scents of black fruit, vanilla and nutmeg. Creamy, sweet flavors of black cherry and black pepper. Clean, well-defined flavors and outstanding balance. Score: 94
Eric & Joël Durand, 2001 St.-Joseph Les Coteaux - $23: Quite earthy with aromas of black fruit, tobacco and black pepper. A sweet note adds to otherwise tart flavors of plum, orange zest, bramble and spicy tobacco. Score: 92
Pierre Gonon, 2002 St.-Joseph Les Oliviers - $28: Shyly perfumed with clean scents of stone fruit and honey. Warm flavors of red apple, honey and spicy, dusty oak. Leaner than most St.-Jo whites. Score: 89
Pierre Gonon, 2000 St.-Joseph Les Oliviers - $29: Rich, honeyed aromas of stone and candied fruit and dust. Waxy flavors of apricot, baking spice and dusty oak. Score: 90
Pierre Gonon, 2002 St.-Joseph Rouge - $27: Tight, spicy aromas of black fruit and grill pan. Similar flavors are concentrated by the addition of soy sauce and minerals. Score: 92
Pierre Gonon, 1998 St.-Joseph Rouge - $28: Big, earthy aromas of blackberry and barnyard. Rich mouth-feel with flavors of sweet blackberry, black plum, citrus peel and lots of cleansing minerals. Score: 93
Guigal, 2002 St.-Joseph Blanc - $28: Shy nose with tropical notes and a bit of oak. Very Marsanne-like with flavors of apricot, orange peel and butter. Tobacco in the spicy close. Score: 88
Guigal, 2002 St.-Joseph Lieu-Dit Blanc - $38: Well-integrated scents of stone fruit, butterscotch and toasty oak. Soft, spicy flavors of white peach, oak and butter. Score: 90
Guigal, 2001 St.-Joseph Blanc - $28: Riper than the 2002 with floral aromas of stone fruit and butterscotch. Concentrated flavors of peach, honey and tobacco with lots of apricot in the close. Score: 91
Guigal, 2001 St.-Joseph Lieu-Dit Blanc - $35: Scents of baking spice, green olive and oak. Waxy, honeyed flavors of stone fruit, dust and oak spice. Score: 90
Guigal, 2001 St.-Joseph Rouge - $28: Meaty aromas of mixed berries, grill pan and earth. Youthfully spicy flavors of blackberry, cedar, earth and a lightening vanilla note. Score: 90
Guigal, 2001 St.-Joseph Lieu-Dit Rouge - $40: Grapy aromas of blackberry, smoke, tobacco and black pepper. Very sweet and lively with flavors of blueberry, mocha, dusty oak and espresso. Excellent integration and a creamy mouth-feel. Score: 92
Guigal, 2001 St.-Joseph Vignes de L'Hospice - $75: Perfumed aromas of mixed berries, coffee and earth. Even more expressive in the mouth with sweet flavors of tobacco, chocolate, vanilla and just-picked berries. The epitome of St.-Jo finesse. Score: 95
Jaboulet, 2001 St.-Joseph Le Grand Pompée Blanc - $24: Very ripe aromas of pear, white flowers and a butterscotch note. Rich, waxy flavors of pear and butter with a peach fuzz texture. Score: 92
Jaboulet, 2001 St.-Joseph Le Grand Pompée Rouge - $26: Leathery scents of plum and roasted meat. Big flavors of mixed berries and leather balanced by citrusy acidity. Score: 93 - TMW
Todd M. Wernstrom is the executive editor, and also publishes Carafe, a bimonthly newsletter.
