A Deep Respect for Terroir
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

Burgundian winemakers tend to be an insular lot. Unlike their more worldly confreres from Bordeaux, many of whom regularly travel widely to promote their chateaus, most Burgundians don’t stray far from their admittedly enchanting Cote d’Or. But the fourth generation of family-directed Maison Joseph Drouhin, based for more than a century in Beaune, is a bold exception. In 1988, oenologist Veronique Drouhin put down roots in Oregon and began making wine at the newly established Domaine Drouhin Oregon. And now 40-year-old Laurent, one of Veronique’s three brothers, has set up house in suburban Mamaroneck with his wife and two young children. As director of sales in America and the Caribbean, Mr. Drouhin says that his mission “is to deliver alive the word about our wines, and not just by e-mail.”
The word that best describes the spectrum of Drouhin wines is “typicity.” No other Burgundian producer, I believe, can match Drouhin’s feat of producing wine from 90 different appellations from Chablis in the north to Beaujolais in the south, always respecting what the soil can bring. Since all from either chardonnay, in the case of the whites, or pinot noir, in the case of the reds (excepting gamay-based Beaujolais), one might think that a certain sameness would take over. And well it might, if Drouhin were bound and determined, as some Burgundians are, to make super potent wines to compete with New World models and to attract high numbers from wine raters. But that’s not Drouhin’s way. “It is true that today, everyone is looking for deep, intense wines, and the use of oak is very big,” said Mr. Drouhin. “But the philosophy of my great-grandfather [Joseph Drouhin, who founded the business in 1880] was to respect the terroir, which means that each wine should carry its own typicity. So our effort is to continue to try to highlight the differences between each terroir.”
Those differences, and they are myriad, result from variations in soil, drainage, elevation and exposure that add up to that French holy word, terroir. Mr. Drouhin credits Carthusian monks with first taking notice of its impact on wine about 600 years ago. Some even say that if you dissolve a bit of soil from two different appellations in water, you can taste the difference between them.
Far more pleasant than tasting dirty water – and probably more instructive, too – is to sample the wines side by side, as I had the chance to do with Drouhin wines twice last month. The first time was at the International Wine Center on Seventh Avenue, where Patrick Sere, a professional wine importer and amateur geologist, lectured on the soil types of Burgundy. All the talk of fossilferous marls and Dolomitic limestone was heavy going. But the Drouhin wines that Mr. Sere served up to demonstrate the impact of terroir were easy to appreciate. All were from the splendid 2002 vintage.
The whites included a pair of Cote de Beaune wines, starting with a Puligny-Montrachet “Clos de la Garenne.” Wines from the commune of Puligny-Montrachet were described by Mr. Sere as being “famous for their elegance, although they are not the biggest bodied.” The other wine was a Meursault-Perrieres, which, he said, “always has more alcohol and less acidity” than the Puligny. True to their respective profiles, the Puligny-Montrachet was tightly wound, with oak and buttery nuances, while the Meursault-Perrieres was a fatter wine, thanks to its lower acidity, that tasted of almonds. These wines, too, told the tale of their different terroirs. Some readers may doubt that they can tell the difference between two such chardonnays. I’m confident that if you can taste the difference between an apple and a pear, you could distinguish between a Drouhin Puligny-Montrachet and a Meursault.
Of the Drouhin 2002 reds offered by Mr. Sere, a Beaune “Clos des Mouches” ($80) was balanced and already soft for such a young wine. It was pretty, yet somehow lacking a forceful character of its own. A Gevrey-Chambertin “Champeaux” ($50) from the Cotes de Nuits, on the other hand, had a deep, dark-fruited nose. In the mouth, it had a streak of meatiness and minerals that echoed long on my palate. These two red Burgundies were vinified similarly, but how very different they were.
Two weeks ago, Mr. Drouhin himself hosted a Chablis tasting at the Oyster Bar. Surprisingly, the firm owns more vineyard acreage in Chablis, which is located 80 miles northwest of Beaune, than it does on the Cote d’Or. “Back in the 1960s,” Mr. Drouhin explained, “there wasn’t much interest in Chablis. My dad, Robert, was the first Beaunoise producer to buy vineyards there. He’d drive up in his old Citroen DX and buy vineyards after consulting old maps to figure out which were best.” Drouhin owns 93 acres in Chablis, including holdings in such Grand Crus as Les Clos, Vaudesir, Preuses, and Bougros.
Once a Jurassic seabed, the soil of Chablis, called Kimmeridgian, is rich in tiny oyster fossils that impart a flinty, chalky, taste to the wines. That them apart from the fuller, more textured chardonnay grown along the Core d’Or. But the similar soil shared by Chablis vineyards does not bring uniformity. Each of the seven Chablis bottlings poured at the Oyster Bar had its own character. Domaine de Vaudon ($22.75), a 15-acre vineyard entirely owned by Drouhin, for example, was shot through by a lemony laser beam of acidity that made you know that this wasn’t a wine from “down south” in the Cote de Beaune. Les Clos ($78), from the region’s premier vineyard, had the tautness of true Chablis, but it was allied to a fullness and elegance that spoke of the region’s most vaunted vineyard.
One might think that, with so many riches from the family store, Mr. Drouhin would drink nothing else. But typicity requires a delicacy of style to allow the nuances of each appellation to shine, and there are times when delicacy isn’t wanted. Like when Mr. Drouhin, getting into suburban mode, fired up the backyard grill for the first time in Mamaroneck at summer’s end. “We did barbecued ribs,” he says. “I said to my wife, ‘Honey, why don’t we try a Zinfandel?’ Unfortunately, it didn’t fit our palate. But we had a few bottles of Napa Valley Silver Oak cabernet sauvignon in the cellar which had been a gift. It was perfect with the ribs.”
Recommended Wines
CHABLIS, JOSEPH DROUHIN 2004 ($18) For decades, the name Chablis was besmirched by jug wine cheapies cashing in on the famous name. For a relatively modest price, this wine tells the real story: lemony aromas, then firm flavors that evoke a shell-strewn beach.
VOLNAY, JOSEPH DROUHIN 2002 ($38) Lightly fragrant, then seamlessly smooth in the mouth. Evokes a milk chocolate-covered raspberry. No available Burgundy vintage is as beguiling as 2002.