Drink: A banker’s redemption

I have a friend who brought shame on his family. Rupert Birch was educated at Westminster and the House. Descending from a long line of writers, artists and journalists, he was admirably qualified for a distinguished career of cultivated indigence. Instead, he became a banker.

But the fall of man can be followed by redemption. After making what anyone but a fellow banker would regard as a useful little fortune, Rupert did what many bankers talk about but few accomplish. At 40, he chucked his counting house for a sacramental vocation. He became a winemaker. He discovered 25 acres of vines near Aix-en-Provence. The previous owners had sold their grapes to the local coopératif. Rupert turned them into a vineyard, Domaine de la Brillane. Sounds romantic: it was damned hard work.

Like all wise men, Rupert drew on a heritage of prejudice. As the locals had been making wine for at least two millennia, it should be assumed that they had learned a few lessons along the way. It would be silly not to study the most up-to-date methods, but technique should be used to enhance terroir, not to supplant it.

He was not a slave to tradition. He believes that even if it is not strictly a local grape, Cabernet Sauvignon will often enhance Provençal blends. La Brillane used it in Flora, a Grenache/Cab Sauv blend which is the vineyard’s flagship. A few weeks ago, I wrote about Le Soula. Its earlier vintages had included Cab Sauv, until the owners abandoned it in pursuit of authenticity. At a tasting, I was almost alone in arguing that the earlier bottles were as good as their successors. Rupert Birch agrees with me.

Rupert is a restless fellow. Firmly established in the nouvelle vague of Provençal wines, La Brillane was winning golden opinions and gold medals.