Jonathan Sack, vigneron at Clos Sainte Magdeleine, is currently serving his second term as president of the Cassis AOC. Since his election, he has made sustainability a priority, spearheading a move toward organic farming that has resulted in nine of the appellation’s ten domaines being certified organic today.
     Its vineyards clinging to coastal bluffs in the heart of the Parc National des Calanques, Cassis holds the unique distinction of being France’s sole appellation situated within a national park. Jonathan’s gently aromatic 2021 blanc illustrates the area’s natural beauty in pristine detail: terraced limestone slopes cascading down toward azure waters; delicate scents of wild herbs and yellow flowers unlocked by the Provençal sun; a salty marine breeze refreshing a balmy fall afternoon on the Mediterranean.

In this rare cuvée, fruit from Terrebrune’s most recent plantings is bottled in its vibrant youth, after just a short passage in neutral foudres. It answers the question of what Mourvèdre grown in Bandol tastes like freshly plucked off the vine. A vivid purple color, it is akin to fresh-pressed wild berries and perfumed hints of flowers and pepper, without the dense, grippy tannin characteristic of a true Bandol made from older vines. Be sure to cool down the bottle a bit before generously splashing this deliciously smooth Provençal juice into your glass.

The 2021 Bandol Rosé from Domaine du Gros ’Noré is all the talk here in Berkeley. Crisp and characterful, and loaded with Provençal complexity, it’s a balanced blend of structured Mourvèdre with equal parts Cinsault, a more delicate variety, and fruit-forward Grenache. Alain was once profiled during harvest for the major French news station TF1, and after seeing footage of his rigorous sorting practices, it’s easy to see why his rosé tastes so damn good.   
     “It all depends on the raw material,” he says. “If we don’t have that, we can’t make a high-quality wine.” Standing atop his tractor amid a bounty of freshly-clipped Mourvèdre, he inspects each and every cluster. Grabbing one whole like a giant drumstick, he tears off a bite with his teeth and swishes the skins, seeds, and pulp as if it were already wine. He pauses in reflection, then spits vigorously into an imaginary spittoon. “Too acidic, we can’t use that bunch.”     
     It’s August in Provence so Alain and his team pick before dawn to ensure the grapes remain cool. As the sun stretches up over the hills of La Cadière d’Azur, he practices yet another quality control technique. Holding up a gorgeous, plump cluster of Mourvèdre to the first rays of light, Alain fixates on where the sun enters the translucent skin of some pinker-looking berries, then tosses it to the ground. “Not ripe enough,” he indicates. It seems crazy to reject so much decent fruit, especially for a mere rosé, but Alain isn’t one to settle, and this is no ordinary rosé. “As soon as my grapes enter the cellar, the wine is ninety percent complete. I am just there to accompany them.” Alain repeats the sunlight test with a different bunch, only this time a glowy halo appears, and every berry looks deep, dark, and densley purple. This one makes it to press. With such ripe fruit, how does Alain keep his rosé so refreshing? “I press gently, never over-extracting. I prefer to lose in quantity over quality, that’s how to preserve finesse.”     
     The video ends with Alain checking on another parcel. One of his hunting dogs, trailing closely behind, devours some low-hanging fruit. Alain laughs, “Their palates are sharp, they won’t touch anything unripe. Yet another indication it’s the perfect time to harvest!”