I remember the morning in early 2019 when I got a text from Antoine Jobard in Meursault, urgently asking if I could talk. He had found an opportunity—one that he had been waiting for patiently ever since he and his father, François, made the painful decision to rip out their Pinot Noir vines in Blagny, after the 2006 vintage. Blagny, high on the hill above Puligny and Meursault, is a great site for growing Chardonnay, as the fine Meursault-Blagny from the Jobards so adequately attests. Its marne soils make an inimitable red as well, but it was, in those days anyway, at the limit of consistently being able to ripen grapes. Antoine dreamed of finding and acquiring other vineyards for producing red Burgundy in the future, and he had a lot of time to consider the style he wanted to make. His opportunity finally came almost fifteen years later, with the once-in-a-lifetime chance to purchase a domaine with prime red vineyards in three great Côte de Beaune villages: Volnay, Pommard, and Beaune. The vines also happened to be close enough for him to walk to from his home and winery in Meursault. He was ready to strike, but needed assurances from a top customer. I didn’t need long to think about it. Ever since he took over winemaking from his legendary father with the 2007 vintage, Antoine has produced the wines of our Burgundian dreams. A hard worker with charming modesty and a great deal of innate talent, he has always delivered. His motivation to make reds at the level of his whites was strong, and he is the type of person that will not give up until he achieves what he sets out to do.
     I also remember walking into his cellar to taste those reds for the first time. It was only a couple of months after harvest, in November 2019. The only thing more exciting than hearing about the opportunity initially was tasting his first wine from these vineyards. As much as I believed in him, it was almost uncanny how he had delivered such spectacular wines right out of the gate. I fell for the style he was going for immediately—fruit-forward, silky tannins, enticing perfume, delicious already with a promising future. They represented the type of Pinot Noir that can only be made in Burgundy, with the deft touch of an experienced hand.
     Fast-forward a few years and Antoine has now had the time to fully gain control of his land, working his soils and getting to know his terroirs intimately. His 2022s are, once again, the stuff that our Burgundian dreams are made of. You’ll need to take a (well-informed) leap of faith: Jobard is now a great source for both white and red Burgundy. I am willing to stake my reputation on it!
     Please inquire with our staff to learn about all of Jobard’s rouge bottlings—for example, his wonderfully elegant Beaune premier cru Montrevenots from a cooler, higher-altitude, east-facing vineyard above Clos des Mouches.

A Corsican once told me about the first time she found herself in Tuscany, and the surprise and joy she had in discovering what felt like a land of long-lost cousins, where not only the local dialect was nearly identical, but the culture and lifestyle, too. Tuscany and Corsica, separated by only about fifty miles of sea, also share Sangiovese, or Niellucciu, depending on whom you ask (a Mediterranean version of potato/potahto, you could say). We’ve put them together in one place for you.
     The Tuscan samplings here tend toward aged elegance with herbal notes, while the Corsicans have a youthful, juicy, sun-packed-in-a-bottle flamboyance to them. You’ll enjoy savoring these cousins side by side, to compare, for example, the violets and melted tannins of Castagnoli’s Chianti to the bright cherry and pepper notes of Giacometti’s Patrimonio. Or Ferretti’s voluminous and velvety Brunello to Leccia’s dark, voluptuous E Croce. Geggiano’s Riserva is an elder statesman of a wine, bursting with notes of old-growth Tuscan beech forest and fresh tobacco, a perfect foil to Arena’s captivating, licorice-infused Carco masterpiece. All of them, however, long dearly for a thick-cut, bone-in, salt-rubbed steak, charred on glowing coals. Do not let them down!

Friuli, in Italy’s far northeast, often flies under the radar for travelers. But for those of us who appreciate fine wines, this quaint region tucked against the Slovenian border is not to be overlooked. Its most qualitative wine districts consist of verdant foothills hugging the Julian Alps, where a cool, damp climate dictated by the mountains and the Adriatic Sea create ideal conditions for producing bright, balanced wines. Friuli boasts a wealth of indigenous grapes as well as French-born varieties with such a long presence in the area that they, too, could be considered endemic. Wine is as deeply ingrained in Friulian culture as are other local specialties including prosciutto, polenta, chicories, and cow’s milk cheeses.
     The best way to experience the flavors of Friuli from the comfort of your home is through the wines of Vignai da Duline. At their small property, Lorenzo Mocchiutti and Federica Magrini embody the summit of responsible stewardship of the land through regenerative farming practices that are as old-fashioned as they are revolutionary. They practice the natural farming philosophy developed by the Japanese agriculturist Masanobu Fukuoka, which radically rejects modern, industrialized ways of working the land. As an example, they have colonized their vineyard rows with erba medica, a clone of alfalfa that aerates the soil while adding precious organic matter. It self-seeds, meaning their vineyard soil maintains itself without tilling or imported fertilizers. They have also planted trees all around their vine plots, creating an oasis of biodiversity crucial to a healthy ecosystem. Such a visionary approach to the land, coupled with tasteful, low-intervention winemaking, results in a singular set of wines radiating purity, vibrancy, and distinct regional flair.

On a gloomy afternoon in March of last year, I stood on the Pont du Gard being pelted by cold rain. Moments earlier, a strong gust of the mistral had swept down the Gardon River, snapping in half the €10 umbrella I’d bought from an Avignon Monoprix that morning. My clothes were soaked. I was still working off my jet lag. And my eighteen-month-old son, struggling even more with the time adjustment, had spent much of the previous night unable to sleep. But, in spite of all this, my family and I were in heaven.
     Two hours earlier, we had found the most delicious and soul-warming refuge inside La Courtille, an oasis of French dining in the sleepy commune of Tavel. Housed in an old, white stone building once dedicated to silkworm production, La Courtille is run by one of France’s pioneering winemaking families, the Pfifferlings of L’Anglore. The restaurant has become so beloved among KLWM staff in the last year that many of us have spent parts of our vacations making the pilgrimage to this obscure corner of southern France to feast on Paris-trained chef Natalia Crozon’s pork belly, braised vegetables, sweetbreads, pâtés, and more while enjoying the village’s iconic dark rosés—or light reds, depending on whom you ask.
     La Courtille, though, is only one of the many unexpected and enchanting surprises this little region, known as the Gard, has to offer. On the rainy, twenty-minute drive from La Courtille to the Pont du Gard, for instance, I couldn’t help but marvel at the rows and rows of old, gnarled, and majestic vines of Grenache, Syrah, Cinsault, and Mourvèdre, among others. In most regions, old vines tend to be rarer and reserved for the most prestigious cuvées, but here in the Gard, they run across the land in every direction, yielding not only gorgeous Tavels, like the ones we’d enjoyed at La Courtille, but also humbler regional bottlings like our Côtes du Rhône Villages from Les Vignerons d’Estézargues, one of France’s most avant-garde caves coopératives.
     The Gard is one of the country’s regions that feels under-visited, despite so many cultural, culinary, and vinous gems. If ever you find yourself planning a trip to the south of France, I cannot recommend this sliver of the south highly enough. Here are some ideas to get the juices flowing.

Day 1 • On a Wednesday or Saturday morning, your first destination should be Uzès, a medieval town home to one of the most beautiful markets in France. After an hour or two exploring the stalls, start to make your way east, stopping first at the Pont du Gard, an ancient Roman aqueduct that used to supply Nîmes with water. From there, you’ll only need to drive ten minutes for lunch in the tiny Saint-Hilaire-d’Ozilhan. This is an otherwise sleepy town—where our excellent mustards happen to come from—but on a nice day, restaurant Le Flores is the perfect place to enjoy lunch outside. When, at last, the moment comes for dinner, La Courtille in the wine village of Tavel beckons you to enjoy one of your most memorable meals of the year. If the restaurant’s old stone interior offers a cozy setting for a late-winter lunch, its gorgeous pea-gravel patio makes for an even dreamier place to enjoy dinner and several glasses of wine on a summer’s night.

Day 2 • Once the recipient of water from the Pont du Gard, and the birthplace of denim (“de Nîmes”), Nîmes is a beautiful walking city at the heart of which is a remarkably well preserved, first-century Roman amphitheater. Just down the street from the arena, meanwhile, is the Maison Carrée, an ancient Roman temple built slightly earlier, and named to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2023 thanks to its incredible preservation. For lunch, grab a bite at one of the countless stalls inside the nearby market Les Halles.
     After lunch, go for a stroll down the canal along the Quai de la Fontaine and through the Jardins de la Fontaine. At the top of the gardens, you get a beautiful view of the old city. When you’re ready for a bottle of the local wine, stop by Flacons a few blocks away and pick up a bottle from the brilliant Nîmes native Ludovic Engelvin. Start with his Clausus, an extraordinarily silky, smooth, and fruit-forward Grenache, or, if you’re feeling a little more adventurous, seek out his Blanc de Voile, a singular expression of Grenache Blanc inspired by the great oxidative wines of Andalusia. Finally, for dinner, check out the wine bar Le Cheval Blanc or, for a more elevated experience, get a reservation at Rouge or Skab, whose chef is also a Nîmes native and devotee to Gardois ingredients.