Domaine La Tour Vieille
One way we try to stay on top of the latest developments in natural wine is to visit the various natural (or natural-leaning) fairs held across France in the early spring. It was at one... Read More
One way we try to stay on top of the latest developments in natural wine is to visit the various natural (or natural-leaning) fairs held across France in the early spring. It was at one of these, ‘Le Vin des mes Amis’ in Montpellier, that we stumbled upon the wines from La Tour Vieille.
The fair was large and crowded, and it mainly featured producers well-known to the hipster cognoscenti, with a few young natural wine up-and-comers sprinkled in. In such an environment, winemaker Vincent Cantié sticks out; his name is not on the lips of so many hip Parisien sommeliers, nor is he new to winemaking.
Instead, Cantié and his partner Christine Campadieu could be described as unheralded natural wine pioneers; they have been making low-intervention wine from the absurdly steep slopes of the French Catalan coast (right near the Spanish border) since 1981, way before natural wine was a ‘thing’.
We didn’t know any of that when we visited Cantié’s table, but the wines — which showed fantastically — were so terroir-expressive it was hardly necessary. They seemed to perfectly capture the craggy, sun-kissed terraces of schist where the vineyards lie, as well as the powerful, salty breezes coming off the Mediterranean sea below. And yet they were far from brutalist postcards; these had finely drawn textures and poetry to them, speaking to the sure hand of a thoughtful, experienced winemaker.
The fair was large and crowded, and it mainly featured producers well-known to the hipster cognoscenti, with a few young natural wine up-and-comers sprinkled in. In such an environment, winemaker Vincent Cantié sticks out; his name is not on the lips of so many hip Parisien sommeliers, nor is he new to winemaking.
Instead, Cantié and his partner Christine Campadieu could be described as unheralded natural wine pioneers; they have been making low-intervention wine from the absurdly steep slopes of the French Catalan coast (right near the Spanish border) since 1981, way before natural wine was a ‘thing’.
We didn’t know any of that when we visited Cantié’s table, but the wines — which showed fantastically — were so terroir-expressive it was hardly necessary. They seemed to perfectly capture the craggy, sun-kissed terraces of schist where the vineyards lie, as well as the powerful, salty breezes coming off the Mediterranean sea below. And yet they were far from brutalist postcards; these had finely drawn textures and poetry to them, speaking to the sure hand of a thoughtful, experienced winemaker.