If, like us, you are obsessed with limestone soils and their impact on wine, then your eyebrow surely gives a lift when it hears that there is a village in Catalonian France called “Calce”. That sounds a lot like “calcaire”, French for limestone, and is even closer to calç, which is the Catalonian word. And, of course, all of these names derive from the same Latin word, calx.
Ribeiro is in the middle of a wine renaissance, and Luis Rodríguez is one of the reasons why. Old-vine terraces on granitic sands and streaks of schist, Atlantic breezes by day and cool nights after sunset — the wines come off clear and poised, more about nerve and texture than weight.
The ocean is beautiful to look at and it’s fun to swim in. In Rías Baixas, it also happens to be a key ingredient. At Bodegas Albamar, the vineyards sit on granitic sand a few steps from the water, and you can taste the salt air in the wines. Two bottles, same coastline, two expressions of that Atlantic Ocean snap.
Ribera del Duero is known for big names and big wines — plush, oak-driven Tempranillos built for cellars and collectors. La Loba is something entirely different.
This is the personal project of Isabel Palomar, who farms a handful of ancient Tempranillo vines in the remote Soria subzone. It’s a rugged corner of Ribera, high in altitude and far to the east, where sandy soils and cooler nights produce wines with finer tannins and lifted aromatics. These vines are over a hundred years old, their roots deep in untouched soils that have never known chemicals.
No new kid on the block, DuMOL can be considered one of the benchmarks for Russian River Valley wines. For decades, they refined a style that’s precise, vineyard-driven, and deeply expressive of place, including a long period when many other producers were chasing points with over-wrought wines. Today, these are the bottles to measure against.
Vincent Paris has become one of the stars of Cornas. Trained by his uncle, the legendary Robert Michel, and farming side by side with Franck Balthazar, Paris has helped define the new wave of Cornas: Syrah that’s pure, finely detailed, and grounded in its granite soils. His Cornas Geynale has become a Flatiron (and even a cult) favorite — and priced accordingly.
Let’s introduce a new champion of minimal intervention wines from Oregon: Hundred Suns, founded by former Beaux Frères winemaker Grant Coulter. Coulter makes wines that feel alive, precise, and true to their vineyard origins — Pinot Noirs that reflect Oregon’s patchwork of volcanic hills, ancient marine sediments, and wind-swept ridges.
We introduced Grosjean to many of you last year, and we’re thrilled to have three new bottlings just in time for summer drinking. These are wines for Alpine picnics, for cool nights in the redwoods, or for anyone seeking something vivid, crunchy and alive.
Domaine du Bagnol, one of only 12 wineries in Cassis, farms (organically, bien sur!) Grenache, Mourvedre and Cinsault just 200 meters from the Med. Their ripe grapes are full of all the terroir's charms: sunny fruit, windswept freshness, electric limestone structure and a minerality that sometimes gets described as "salty."
Oregon Pinot Noir used to be a scrappy, underdog affair. Independent producers carved out reputations with low-budget setups, idealism, and incredible wines. But over time, that spirit has faded a little, as international investors and corporate players moved in.
Which is why we’re so thrilled to offer new releases from Love & Squalor — a reminder of what made Willamette Pinot so compelling in the first place.
The essence of Chablis – the thing that sets it apart from all other Burgundies – is its stony soul. The appellation is defined by the Kimmeridgian marls of clay and limestone (flecked with ancient, fossilized seashells) that sit over limestone subsoils. That soil, together with Chablis’ northern climate, make wines that are electric with acidity and minerality.
